The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
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Mid-morning coffee. Mesmerised, we watch the upper spikes of next door's buddleia cavorting in a kind of war dance high above our six...
Thursday, 25 April 2013
into this small wood
has been compressed
a world too large for it.
the world beyond the trees
was decompression chamber
which now is stressed
beyond the measurable
allowing interested parties
to deny the data --
than the dry results
of number crunching.
of old resources
established weather patterns
present a united front
What moves between these verticals? Moves
horizontally. Run. Scamper. Scuttle. Flit.
Swoop. Lollop. crawl. Instinctively we plot
trajectories runs paths tapestries
of movement. Catch
the sparrow hawk. His dive-bomb dive.
Gate crash through the canopy. Becomes
one of the verticals.
Does it bring the tapestry alive?
Or is it rent in twain?
transposed as Two-.
in here it has been said
is where God died
or has been buried
Something like that.
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dave...your words are slippery for me this morning...i am catching the hints of deeper meaning but i am going to need more coffee for my brain to catch up....smiles...does have an interesting progression...the compression, third stanza from the end it really takes off for me...
...and what of the watermeadows?
I have to confess kinship with Brian's half-understanding and a consequent need for caffeine
Wow, just wow!
I will have to agree. This poem has depth beyond my understanding. Perhaps a 'clue' of explanation would help.
It seems the sparrow hawk has trespassed...has broken through the bland data...has broken the spell of "three-dimensional transposed as two"...for in dividing the obligatory horizontal with his vertical dive, he has brought the tapestry alive!
Of course, I may be well off key, but that is how I perceive it...:)
This is some rather intense stuff (in a good way). I do not know what this poem is about BUT I think that sometimes that's a wonderful thing.
Very surprising and engaging as ever, the last stanza a poignant reflection.
When I was a child some bamboo bush( there were not wood near my house) looked huge and profound, but some looks like ornament now. Your abstract way of writing reminds me of that.
Ouch! Looks like back to the drawing board for a bit then!
I wonder if the desire for caffeine is a consequence of the fact that I wrote it in a caffeine-induced state?
That'll do very nicely, thank you.
Er, I was hoping to hear what others made of it. I tend ot think that explaining it might deteat the purpose, but \i'll give it some thought
I like it, like it very much. I hadn't thought of quite all that, but it fits very well with what I had thought. Thanks for it.
I'm encouraged to hear you say that as I am currently struggling with some poems I cannot at all get into. I half know what they're about, but beyond that, for the moment I am lost.
Very grateful for this response. Good to hear. Thank you.
I find your comment fascinating. There is so much in what at first seems like a simple memory and the way things look different (smaller?) later on in adulthood. Thank you so much.
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