Rage Over a Lost Glove

For my Advanced Literature: Catholic class, we read The Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope. For homework, we had to write our own mock epic (satirical) poem in heroic couplets with iambic pentameter. What are heroic couplets and iambic pentameter? Heroic couplets is a rhyming pattern that rhymes as A, A, B, B, C, C, etc. Iambic pentameter is a rhythm that contains ten syllables, the first syllable being unstressed and the second being stressed, resulting in a "da DA da DA da DA da DA da DA"pattern. We had to use exaggeration, incongruity, reversal, and parody in our poem.

I wrote my poem about a person losing a glove that he doesn't even care about. If any of you are avid classical music listeners, you might get my reference to Beethoven's "Rage Over a Lost Penny (Rondo a Capriccio)." :D Enjoy!

Rage Over A Lost Glove
By Catherine Mohs
Oh, when/ the sum/mer's leaves/ in green/ were clothed
A gen/tle breeze/ from lov/ely south/ doth blowed
Capriccio/ girded/ himself/ to sort/ his clothes
A very/ capricious ad/venture/ he had/ chose
And while/ he battled/ his way/ throughout/ the mess
He chanced/ upon/ a glove,/ all torn/ and bereft
Without/ a sec/ond glance/ he threw / aside
But then/ returned/ to where/ it sadly/ lied
"Oh my!/ Look here!"/ says he/ in utter/ dismay
"This glove/ has had / no pair/ with which/ to lay!"
In conster/nation/, he did/ search/ low
And like/ a berser/king warrior/, he storms/ and blow
Fin/ally,/ he sinks/ back in/ a chair
The wound/ of his/ defeat/ was too much/ to bear
But with/ the clash/ of spears/, his Rondo/ strides in
"Why, what/  is ever/ the matter/, my dear/est kin?"
Ricci moans/, and groans/, and throws/ a sigh/ on high
"Have you/ ever seen/ my glove?/ Oh, tell/ no lie!"
"Well, since/ I can/not lie,/ oh, Ricci/ dear
I will/ tell you/ the truth./ Give ear,/ oh hear
That I/ had used/ your glove/, and no/ mistake
I only/ had meant/ to borrow/, and not/ to take
But alas!/ that dreadful,/ oh that/ awful/ day
Be cursed/ that hour/ I set down/ and walked/ away!"
He so/ concluded/ with a/ tremulous/ sigh
To Ric/ci's ears/ was lost/ the plain/tive cry
"You wretch,/ you villain,/ you horrid/ fool child!
Containing/ a wick/ed heart/ while outwardly/ mild
You knew/ that these/ were my old/ favorite/ gloves
Misplac/ing them/ is like/ unto losing/ my loves!
Without/ them, I am/ Samson/ bereft/ of his hair
Or like/ a innocent/ sheep/ in a li/on's lair!
Now you/ wretch’d child/ now you/ will pay/ for this melee
Or else/ you’ll nev’r/ again/ see light/ of day!
So roared/ Capriccio/ on that/ fine summer/ noon
His howls/ echoed like/ a wolf/ up to/ the moon.
The van/quished foe/ in terror/ fled out/ the door
And Capriccio/ mourned/ his glove/ for ev/er more.


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