Friday, May 20, 2011

Aurora






Aurora

Sitting alone in the time
when the night won’t let go
of the day
when the sun rattles the locked
door and screams to get out from
her black basement

I think of you
as I dance in my skin
you who gave me a necklace of silence
who braided my hair with wet
feathers and left me
a bracelet of tears.

I think of what you saw
when you whispered
let down your hair
I remember my breath
pulsing light, a mist
in my lungs

exhaled in unwilled wisps,
washing, clinging,
outlining us,
softening the ice-green border
where we met to barter selves in
a steam of blood and living fire.

And still the day
paces in her holding cell;
but something is with me,
watching
as the wind passes us
on the road to morning.

May 2011


Posted for    Friday Poetically   at the inimitable OneStopPoetry

Thanks to Brian Miller, who blogs at Waystation One, for the prompt, which was to write a love (or unlove) poem.  Happy 15th Anniversary, my friend.






19 comments:

  1. As mystical and beautiful as the image!

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  2. This is beautiful-- I especially love:
    exhaled in unwilled wisps,
    washing, clinging,
    outlining us,
    softening the ice-green border
    where we met to barter selves in
    a steam of blood and living fire.

    The poem reads in a waterfall of image, gathering in and gathering up nuance, throwing off ambivalence and tenderness- terrific. xj

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  3. So many lines here that are just beautiful! Well done !

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  4. You've painted such beautiful images with words here -- lovely poem.

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  5. this is truly magical hedge...you grabbed me with...I think of you
    as I dance in my skin
    you who gave me a necklace of silence
    who braided my hair with wet
    feathers and left me
    a bracelet of tears...

    and the something joining at the end...very nice touch...

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  6. After reading this I am at a loss to comment. You just keep out-doing yourself, JoyAnn. The sun rattling the door to get out of the basement...just brilliant.

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  7. Absolutely wonderful! "as the wind passes us on the road to morning." Perfection.

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  8. Great opening, great post!!!!!!!!! You write some of the best lines.

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  9. Wow! You drew me in with the first lines...Beautiful!

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  10. Yes, poetry is cheaper than whiskey, and it's where love is still drinkable in cases, at least in the remembering, the writing down ... That greenish northern light, aurora, aura of late enactment, so deep in the night's fast keep that the day is kept at bay, allowing all the darker colors to come forth and play. Such a grand love song, albeit dipped in time's furies -- rueful perhaps, though still in love with that jazz, its strange animality -- or was it the jazzman himself, with all his strange totems and tokens and amulets which could not save himself but gave you, in passing, words to summon winds? I think so. Is the aurora the light of the meditative mind, or the lucence of dark matter, eerie with all we know but can't? Shall I add I loved the poem? I could drink a case of it and still be knocked out of my socks.- Brendan

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  11. Bartering selves. That's awfully good.

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  12. Many thanks all. i don't often write love poems, but this one just decided to show up. Glad you all came by and left your thoughts about it.

    @Brendan I owe you a tip of the witchy hat for the first stanza--your poem Heart of Darkness, though very different in other ways, certainly made me much more aware of that odd hour where day and night meet and are neither one nor the other, when vitality is low and the muse's faint song comes clearer. This was written about four in the morning, and owes its birth to that time.

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  13. Quite simply brilliant!

    "Sitting alone in the time
    when the night won’t let go
    of the day"

    This reminded me immediately of that time of day which e e cummings described as "the magical hour when is becomes if "

    I rarely read words I wish I'd written. This evocative and beautiful poem is full of such words and possess lines which will become part of my poetic memory. Thank you. James.

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  14. Such stunning poetry. I'm in awe of this poetic voice - so strong, despite its vulnerability and brave, despite the fear of the unknown. Your work is always exceptional, but this is a favourite.

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  15. Hey, that's really GooooD! "...And still the day
    paces in her holding cell;"

    I witness that moment often, when day is patiently waiting, just before first light...and you can FEEL it! And LOVE it!

    As that breeze passes us on its way to morning, OH MY! And you word it so well, in order for me to 'feel' it like this.

    THAT'S what poetry is about also: feelings!
    PEACE!

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  16. Very beautiful... and the imagery is gorgeous.

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