Sunday, February 6, 2011

From the Blue House





From the Blue House

At the door of the blue house you stand, where
the worm of truth eats away at the succulent rot
in the heart’s hollow, incising the chamber
from which it will be born again
one with the matter that fed its form
changing it into beauty dry and alive and flying.

The questions of fear that paint the windows
blood scarlet, red and burning the night,
are  met with full response, silenced in your look.

The loss and gain I think I balance
like enormous worlds
scamper off lightly like the bobbing asses of baboons
over the improbably purple grass
and the sun prepares to undress himself from the night sky.


For you, I give that blue Van Gogh night,
a unicorn and a tree, an eclipse and
black summer storms that follow the herds,
dust in your coffee, but no more no more
blood on your hands. Instead soft cries of brides 
in your ears and sleep that floats on your breast.

For me, an owl who is a songbird
wide eyes soaking in the light
wild cry tearing through the night,
a hunter of the darkness blown into the light
thrown into the air already flying.

For you and I, streetlights and a yellow moon,
a gold spoon and a crystal cup
conversations covered up by the songs from the bar
and the soldiers and the sailors leaving, kicking up sand.
Pictures breathing, animals sighing, colored lights
burning all night long.

Someday but not now, somewhere but not here--
some way I know, 
but not how--
I can’t say only if.

But knowing is all and enough.
True is what stands alone.




March 1991, revised and expanded, February 2011

Posted for One Shoot Sunday at the inimitable OneStopPoetry



Image: Haunted Granary, by Sean McCormick
Used with permission.

27 comments:

  1. Wow, Joy!!! What imaginings, what truths beyond the blue house, beyond the crimson night! I love how you extend it to the now, right here where 'streetlights' and the 'yellow moon' and 'colored lights burning all night long'...but not now not here'. Terrific!

    ReplyDelete
  2. How wonderful it was to become lost in your words and follow the pathways of your imagination. I loved this poem.

    ReplyDelete
  3. To me-- beautiful, beautiful-- two stand-alone stanzas in sequence:


    For you, I give that blue Van Gogh night,
    a unicorn and a tree, an eclipse and
    black summer storms that follow the herds,
    dust in your coffee, but no more no more
    blood on your hands. Instead soft cries of brides
    in your ears and sleep that floats on your breast.

    For me, an owl who is a songbird
    wide eyes soaking in the light
    wild cry tearing through the night,
    a hunter of the darkness blown into the light
    thrown into the air already flying.

    gorgeous...xxxj

    ReplyDelete
  4. Took the long way round to come to the simple conclusion. Truth needs no support and I like them above liked the journey of the free write.

    ReplyDelete
  5. A beautiful, creative journey. You had me at "incising the chamber / from which it will be born again" Talk about touching the heart—with incisors nonetheless. Incredible imagery presented through a smooth tone.... True is indeed what stands alone! Indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  6. lots of amazing lines as always - the blue van gogh night...so cool - but my no. 1 line was...and the sun prepares to undress himself from the night sky..this smashed me!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Infectious imagery and a feeling of owing lost within the photograph, you spread your witchy magic once again weaving these lines.

    ReplyDelete
  8. When someone tells me that somethuing I wrote made them cry, it's actually one of my favorite comments, it says to me that I really got it right. I'm saying that to you, now, Witchy, this brought tears, and to me, is one of your very best.

    The third stanza is stunning, just brilliant, though, if I may, I would drop that last line in parenthesis. It's like a last belated pop after the big skyworks go off and everybody goes "ooooh ahhhh!" But then the fourth stanza is even better, in its softer way.

    But all of that is saying, "look at THAT star", when it is all of them together that take the breath away. It's one of the best, most wistful, most brilliantly written love poems I've read. A broken Hallelujah, as the song says.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I am loving the Title because it nods towards the notion that the picture may indeed be a drawing or a painting. Van Gogh fits perfectly there and as for the ending? Yes. True is what stands alone.
    Nicely done.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Some really beautiful lines... like the sun undressing himself for the night skies... leading the reader through the nearby pathways...
    Wonderfully done.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I am now following your pounding nouns and emulsifying tones. This one gave me great pause...and then I read it again. Oh, if we all had those moments to bathe in the colors of night. Excellent.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Thank you, all. The core of this poem, written in 1991 came out back then in one effortless flow that I did no rewriting on--just left it in an old notebook. I dusted it off and tuned it up a bit for this prompt, because something about the poem seemed to me in harmony with the fanciful spirit of a house that exists in a dream, in dream colors and with improbable colors and stylized accents.

    @FB: I bow to your poetic muse, dear, and remove the parenthesis. Thank you for the complement of a tear. As you know, I don't produce much love poetry, so it means a lot when someone who is so amazing at it is moved by what I wrote

    @jennrevved: I thought of you when I was transcribing the owl stanza, actually, though that is part of the poem that was written ten years ago--glad you liked my homage to the night hunter as I always like to see her in your work.

    ReplyDelete
  13. So many wonderful images; stanzas 5-7 stand out especially.

    ReplyDelete
  14. what a fun journey hedge...let that worm of true eat...same as adam...love that line...

    ReplyDelete
  15. I, too, stand in awe of how you can jamb your images together in such an outstanding way to create something so layered, so deep and meaningful. Every thing of yours I read amazes me. You are bewitching and beyond ethereal. Thanks, Gay

    ReplyDelete
  16. Here you have numerous fine poets offering serious and meaningful commentary on this beautiful piece. So, I'm just going to add that I am impressed as hell at your ability to work in the image of bobbing baboon asses. Loving that.

    ReplyDelete
  17. This is stunningly beautiful poetry.

    Right from the start.

    "The questions of fear that paint the windows" and then your description of the colours and the nod to Van Gogh.

    Brilliant!

    Louise G

    ReplyDelete
  18. What more can be said that would add to what has already been posted above. with a lyrical pen you have invited us all into a world that is both beautiful, mysterious, and infectious. Colour me beyond impressed...a wonderful write.

    ReplyDelete
  19. A nice take on the prompt. How great that you could dust off the old notebook and fine such a lovely poem to go with the old blue house.

    ReplyDelete
  20. From the bobbing baboon asses, to the blue Van Gogh night, to the owl who is a songbird and the yellow moon, this is a wonderful, evocative, work of pure genius. I so love this, one of my favorites of yours, which means it is freaking out of the ball park brilliant.

    ReplyDelete
  21. I love the images in these stanzas and the balance for me...for you and all the dreams of dream that will come to existence...knowing someday but not today....lovely...bkm

    ReplyDelete
  22. There are so many good things about this - including the reference to Van Gogh and Starry Night. Nice one!

    ReplyDelete
  23. Oh.. I can read this over and over again.. that last line was like hitting the nail on the head!

    And that reference to Van Gogh.. it's only after you said it that I actually thought of the connection... whewww...
    Beautifully delivered, Joy!!

    ReplyDelete
  24. Hue is everything here, so saturated in electric blue as to glow cyanotic everywhere the poem looks -- the house, the heart, baboon asses, a Van Gogh night, the Grail enactment of lovers. The hue is so mesmerizing as to almost occlude what you finally nail, that such hued metaphor is the door marked "lecture on truth" and not the portal marked "truth." Still, without its wordy, worldly saturations, what fun is the naked point? Great job. -- Brendan

    ReplyDelete
  25. what a ride...the colors, imagery, and weaving in and out of emotions...I feel like I fell down the rabbit hole and I loved it!

    ReplyDelete

'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg