I have to admit, I’ve got a thing for literary tattoos!
So, I got a tattoo yesterday! It says “Vers Libre” which means “Free Verse” in French. Don’t mind how awkward I might look in this photo.
It is the title (the title is in french, i didn’t change it to be cool) of a poem from a poetry book that my Great Greatsomethingoranother Uncle wrote back in the late 1800/early 1900s. It was in possession of my Nana, until she passed away and I got it. I used the same script that was used in the book. Took a photo of it, put it into illustrator, and fixed up the kerning.
Vers Libre
I am free verse.
I express revolution.
And revolutionize expression.
I use everything that is,
From beetle to behemoth;
From milkweed to milky way;
The shallow, babbling brook,
Rivers and lakes, tumultuous seas
That rock and surge beneath all skies.
You call me new? I was not young
When Isreal’s shepherd sung,
And his great son entranced
The multitude with his high harmonies,
I have resurged!
Poesy, propriety, prudery
These p’s are dried and gone to seed;
They rattle in their pods;
I’ll none of them.
My lines and contours run untrammeled, free,
From the waist both ways.
Would you entrap my fluent feet
In cumbersome sabots?
And knead my riotous tresses
Into puffs and coils?
Would you corset me?
Try it!
Truss me in stiff vestment of convention.
Listen!
You shall hear the seams split,
And buttons plop against the chiffonier!
I am free verse.
To me, it means that I cannot be held down by anyone or anything. I am my own self and nothing will ever change that. I am free verse.
