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Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets
Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets
Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets
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Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets

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Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets retells the cult classic film in the form of Shakespearean sonnets.

It was inspired by A Corrigan’s love of the film and the fact that she wished the novelisation had been more poetic, and physically resembled the book in the film more closely. She started writing the book late last year, intending it to be a celebration of the film’s thirtieth anniversary, but it has now also become a tribute to its star, David Bowie.

Many of the poems were composed at Bowie shrines; titles of various Bowie songs also found their way into the text. Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets is written in the form of Shakespearean sonnets, to reflect the fact that several of the lines Sarah quotes from her book in the film resemble iambic pentameter, but the language is intended to be more accessible. The book is aimed at Labyrinth aficionados, as well as fans of David Bowie and people who like sonnets and/or traditional rhyming poetry.

A Corrigan takes inspiration from the works of Tolkien, Tanith Lee, and Neil Gaiman, and was specifically influenced by Christina Rossetti’s ‘Goblin Market’ and Lewis Carroll’s ‘The Hunting of the Snark’.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 28, 2017
ISBN9781785897955
Labyrinth: One classic film, fifty-five sonnets
Author

A Corrigan

A Corrigan has worked for several years as an editor. Outside of work, she has written fan fiction, and has had several poems published by Earlyworks Press, the Pre-Raphaelite Society, and Iron Press – and performs her poetry at festivals. She is also the creator of a poetry blog, Ladies Who Don’t Have Time For Lunch, and has had an exhibition of her haiku done in cross stitch.

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    Book preview

    Labyrinth - A Corrigan

    LV

    PROLOGUE

    Perhaps, in childhood, you a movie saw;

    the title of said film, ‘twas Labyrinth.

    It told of maiden and companions four,

    and featured a beguiling goblin king.

    Now thirty years have passed since its release –

    in stature has its reputation grown;

    so much, that this enchanting fantasy

    is to another generation known.

    This tale (the most-beloved of my life)

    I ventured to encapsulate in verse,

    a true love’s labour; sonnets fifty-five,

    which now you, gentle reader, may rehearse,

    commemorating film in poetry –

    humbly, ‘tis dedicated to Bowie.

    I

    One evening, as the sky was growing dark,

    a white owl flew (called, summoned, in some way?)

    perched on an obelisk in lush green park,

    beheld a girl rehearsing for a play.

    The tale was of a quest across a maze

    in search of babe, snatched by a goblin king

    (who was, in truth, enamoured of the maid

    and only stole the child at her bidding).

    "Through dangers untold, hardships unnumbered,

    I have fought here, to city of goblins,

    for my will is as strong as yours –" stumbled,

    referred then to her book, The Labyrinth.

    Reciting Over me, you have no power

    she heard a clock, which struck the seventh hour.

    II

    Seven o’clock! cried Sarah – ‘twas her name.

    The play’s meanderings had made her late.

    Tonight, she’d be in trouble yet again

    with stepmother she’d slowly grown to hate.

    She ran – her dog, loyal Merlin, by her side –

    and headed home, through streets awash with rain.

    The stepmother made Merlin stay outside

    though Sarah tried to plead his case, in vain.

    Outdoors, a storm was brewing – and inside;

    for stepmother, assuming she’d no date,

    planned to take Sarah’s father out that night.

    Sarah was forced to baby-sit! Irate,

    she stormed upstairs, exchanging fancy dress

    for white blouse, blue jeans, and embroidered vest.

    III

    Deep in her room, a haven and a shrine,

    she heard her

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