An a byrchyn bonke | ther bous arne bryght,
I saw a brymlyche bore | to a bay broght;
Ronke rachis with rerde | thai ronnon aryght;
Of al hore row and hore rest | lytil hom roght.
Methoght hit ful semelé | to se soche a syght
How in a syde of a salghe | a sete him he soght;

(On a birch-tree'd bank, where boughs are bright, I saw a fearsome boar brought to bay; fierce hounds with shouting [barking, I guess?] ran aright; they cared little for repose and rest. It seemed full seemly/nice to me to see such a sight, how at a willow's side he [the boar] sought a seat [good footing?]. 'Three Dead Kings', preserved by the direction of and possibly composed by John the Blind Audelay, ll. 1–6.)

For time here Spireback found himself at bay,
as boar at bankside bound by pack-formed hounds—
they run aright with barking reard; the boar
they scent-taught seek, with seemly hunter’s haste;
at riverside they ring him, old-wood’s earl,
in holt most hathel, panting, harried now;
his tusks each way he turns, and stingers stern
from spine he upwards lifts, that lives can steal—
just so did Spireback war-pack Skelond face.

Now we call upon the chthonics, catch at their graces;
may they grant us no griefs, and no grim tidings,
from all shamesdeed us shield, from all shrinkings craven;
may they wield me to work some words for our moment.

Both mighty and meek, muster and quieten:
the loyal-lettered legend I lay out to please you
of Kin-Bright the Key-rider and her cohorts knightly,
chronicling their crimes and their cruel ending.

Now the lay is related, through my long telling,
of Kin-Bright Key-rider, called to the war-road,
boldest with brand against bale from Fortune,
and the fiercest for her folk against fate bitter,
whose deeds gifted death and dolour to millions,
though her peer-love and pity might yet pain heart’s-room.

May such griefs us not grip, nor any grim tidings,
going shielded from such shamesdeed, and from shrinkings craven;
thus on the chthonics we call, catching at graces.

girl who specifically tries not to understand the things she's reading. it's pretty tough anyway and the words sound nice. sometimes she understands them anyway and that's ok too. she fills in her own idea of the story in the gaps like how many people do in songlistening who don't hear song lyrics properly. she reads it aloud and she plays with how the words are said. sometimes people listen. sometimes she's in a voice call with no one reciting and streaming it.

if it's not obvious already I think especially alliterative verse would be very conducive to this approach. I've bounced off cosmic warlord kinbright by @thaliarchus a couple times now. it tastes good. sharp, up and down. soft and sharp as a cat can be. lilting and singsong and natural and subtly rhythmic and euphonic!

the reading format would be good at acquiring the emotional landscape of a poetic work. seeping into the depleted aquifer of the forgotten methods of alliterative verse especially! the metaphory underlying any and every work. a facet of poetry I find significant.

maybe "and", "but", "soaring", other words of flow and mood would andor do act as anchors. it's hard not to hear it. and ending in an easyflowing quick-burbling cluster that reinforces the links between words. "but" is unvoiced and terse, stopping, accentuating the contrast in how the speech is choppy for just a moment. "soaring" has many beautiful sonorants that flow easily and match their vowels well. they flow so flawlessly through the air. they feel unbounded, though the slightly less so.

I find myself lilting my tone, even, as I read the few snippets of cwkb I've managed! unconsciously the context of the phonosemantics seeps into my words as I recite them. the mood is palpable. it's pleasant for my tongue and inflection. I'd like to be the girl I describe of course

Bringles broken | abridge hunger,
a snacking swift, | assuaging gut,
pang-calming crisp. | Peerless the Bringle,
renowned branding, | bright to the searcher,
on desk waiting, | dinner of Gamer.