Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Mother of Love

Roses by night.




Mother of Love


By the dark moondrop pool
I walk my watch,
the sky strobing stormlight,
the heat failing, warped and wrapped
to a humid white cast
on the broken leg of darkness. I can't
wake up the feeling sleeping inside my skin;
hold the sky still for me, so I can see 
what's there, or not

through the chromatrope of the clouded moon
that shows my face of many colors shifting
bleaching to bone, fleshing to rose,
the gyre and thrum of the black bullroarer
pounding in my ears, and limitless nothing.
Nothing's whispers, nothing clearer
than the cold sulfur witchfire
burning night’s garden down and 
down again.

Wind weaves and blows a wild vapor,
soft salmon hood thrown over moon
to cover that blood-speckled alabaster eye.
Wound in blue nocturne waiting
to hide again behind the yellow mask of dawn,
born to change, dying to rise 
from an easy tomb, laughing
at my everdying rose’s pretense,
who calls herself the mother of love.


August 2011




Posted for   OpenLinkNight   at dVerse Poets Pub

Doors open every Tuesday 3:00 PM EST and close Wednesday midnight.  
No cover except a poem. Come join us.



Image: Roses by Night, by jelleprins on flick'r
jelleprins' photostream 
Shared under Creative Commons 2.0 Generic License
 

47 comments:

  1. Wow...I loved this from beginning to end. Extremely powerful..'I can't
    wake up the feeling sleeping inside my skin;
    hold the sky still for me, so I can see
    what's there, or not' ~ these are lines I wish I had written ~smiles ..truly awesome!

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  2. It is a privilege to read this absolutely stunning poem. Too many wonderful lines to list. But the "cold sulfur witchfire burning night's garden down" was especially fantastic. GREAT poetry, kiddo! Whew.

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  3. hedge this is gorgeous...you imagery is incredible and intense yet flows well from one to the next...throw some water on nights garden by the way...smiles. watching out for the horns...

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  4. Joy, this is just great...your imagery wonderful.

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  5. Wow as said such vivid imagery throughout this piece, from start to finish. wonderful piece!

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  6. If there was ever a perfectly cast cascading lyrical sentence, it's this one:

    I can't
    wake up the feeling sleeping inside my skin;
    hold the sky still for me, so I can see
    what's there, or not

    through the chromatrope of the clouded moon
    that shows my face of many colors shifting
    bleaching to bone, fleshing to rose,
    the gyre and thrum of the black bullroarer
    pounding in my ears, and limitless nothing.

    You take a number of imaginative risks in this poem, I think-- a true stunner, gorgeous. xxxj

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  7. "A humid white cast on the broken leg of darkness". That's perfect.

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  8. A lot of wonderful imagery and wordplay in here. I especially like "the sky strobing stormlight" and "the broken leg of darkness"

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  9. ...the cold sulfur witchfire
    burning night’s garden down and
    down again... then the broken leg of darkness...just awesome imagery..and i wonder if you really got inspired by that rose? first? and then you take us by the hand and lead us into such deep waters..

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  10. Rich, dark and beautiful. Never a disappointment.

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  11. Beautiful images. Love the movement. You have a lovely way with words...or they have their way with you. ;-)

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  12. strong work... you set yourself high standards and live up to them. What grabs me about this piece is the descriptors/descriptive passages. Take the opener -

    By the dark moondrop pool
    I walk my watch,
    the sky strobing stormlight,
    the heat failing, warped and wrapped
    to a humid white cast
    on the broken leg of darkness

    >> wonderful. 'sky strobing stormlight' and 'broken leg of darkness are lines I wish I'd written...

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  13. Oh my! A lyrical journey through blood moon and witch fire. For what it may be worth, from little old me, I think this is a new found favorite. When our discussions lead to personal preference within the poetry...you can never hit 100% all the time...for me, you hit 200! I truly thought it fantastic and remain in awe! You rock...own it! ;)

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  14. Hold the sky still for me so I can see what's there or not...
    playful acknowledgement of the observer effect in Quantum Theory?

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  15. Joy, here’s what I took away from your profound work (I think it opens, as your work always does, to multifarious meaning). This poem spoke to me of shame, the symbolic black rose, centered amidst deterministic chaos where we face that our pretenses can’t avert the ‘burning of the garden’. ‘I can’t wake up the feeling sleeping inside my skin / hold the sky still for me so I can see what’s there or not’ is as viable a theory of emotional turbulence as I’ve heard expressed. What is then full seen under the ‘strobing light’ and ‘alabaster eye’ of the encircling Dionysian Mysteries that allow the marginalized (whether people, inhibitions, or emotions) to come to center stage? The roles, ‘the face of many colors’ of the psyche play out in the dark night of the soul and struggle to be known. Like Ra speaking the secret names of beings to call them into creation. All is striving, hunting, imagining the vessel reinforced to hold the turmoil within. The ‘black bullroarer’ testing the void awaiting some sign of life, some dignity in the face of the ‘everdying’, bounding or denying the ephemerality of love, of existence. On a personal note I love the use of ‘chromatope’ but that probably isn’t a surprise. Thank you for a magnificent rumination.

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  16. Beautiful Joy, vivid images in all the lines.

    "at my everdying rose’s pretense" the picture is perfect too~

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  17. Bold and beautiful.

    Wind weaves and blows a wild vapor,
    soft salmon hood thrown over moon
    to cover that blood-speckled alabaster eye.
    Wound in blue nocturne waiting
    to hide again behind the yellow mask of dawn,

    This really caught my eye. Powerful.. Thanks for sharing this.

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  18. Thanks all. I appreciate everyone getting their teeth into the piece and leaving their thoughts.

    @Luke: Thanks for reading, and glad you came by to check it out. Wish you'd written, eh? Now you know how I feel at your place.

    @Natasha: I'm so glad it worked for you. You've been inspiring me daily in your own enthusiasm and uncompromising honesty.

    @Timoteo: Whenever the heavens come up, can physics be far behind?

    @Anna: you've nailed it, and perhaps even gone further into it than I could articulate myself. Many times our poems are more opaque to the writing eye than the reading one, I think. And the 'chromotrope' was indeed inspired by your sidebar full of chromatic delights.

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  19. great tone of drama in this write

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  20. "By the dark moondrop pool"

    i've read this line over and over, Joy, savoring the image your words evoke! a mystical, magical poem ~

    "on the broken leg of darkness"

    you take my breath away! really stunning!

    and i love the image ~ i can spend more time searching for an image than writing a poem. {smile} dani ♥

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  21. gorgeous, addictive, can't stop reading it

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  22. The images and flowing language lulled me into a state of relaxation. Very soothing.

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  23. The rose with its impossibly sweet calyx approached by barbwire stair of thorns is a metaphor for love which has to be rinsed with salt water -- tears, the sea, the life -- and bleached and rinsed and bleached, over and again through a history, a process we never end, never cease writing the next poem about. The glass is dark here but the glint of red still comes through, as does the sweetness of a music heightened impossibly by the bitter evidence of the day. (O such powerfully empty images here.) Deity and irony are such strange, enduring bedmates, don't you think? Love is the mother of all poems, or poetry: a delicious vicious kitchen where none of the recipes ever turn out the way we thought they would. But then, we wouldn't come up with such marvelous casseroles like this ... The sadness here is overwhelming but, Tin Mom, it proves there is a heart that still bells in the night what it believes, echoed by all it yet dreams. - Brendan

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  24. Again you manage to see and say images of night that massage out the best of language and feeling. I feel that I've walked with you in that night, and that I am in agreement, standing with your everdying rose in perhaps senseless hope, but hope nonetheless.

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  25. Personally I would like a description of your rendering here. Not when you wrote it but now that it has settled within for a few hours. I know what i see but I want to know what you see HW.

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  26. Thanks all. I appreciate the time taken to read and comment, and always am grateful for your input.

    @dani--so glad you enjoyed. I always love my stops at your place, I know it must take a lot of time and energy to come up with each entry--they are always a finely tuned presentation of visual, musical and mental delights.

    @Ruth: yes, I think there's an argument of hope to be made for the rose and her ideas about herself, despite the moon's attitude problem. Thanks for reading, and bringing your own sense of poetics and life.

    @B: We've discussed what's in this poem before, so no surprise that you recognize my theme, but you do bring insight to it that I lack. When you deify Nature,(or perhaps anything,)you are indeed swamping yourself in irony, and also in pattern and meaning that may elude the sharp analytic eye but remains always present underneath. And that dream, realized or not, of love and order makes all the nothing exactly what it is, however darkly it whispers and won't shut up. Thanks for reading, and for understanding.

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  27. What a vivid collection of images. As you say, there is so much underneath. I enjoyed reading this.

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  28. Hi Hedge

    Inspirational - I have trouble putting into words how i feel about poetry especially when it is this good - but the roundness of your words in my head - the volume and the dynamics are just how they are supposed to be- does that make sense? this affect is most present in stanza 2 - if that helps. Your theme offered a comfort too - not specifically - just a feeling

    thanks hedge - great work

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  29. Thanks very much Arron. this poem hasn't worked well for some people--others seem to instantly get it. I'm glad you felt it speak to you, and everything you said made perfect sense to me, even the comfort. Thanks for reading.

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  30. I'm often speechless when I read your poems (making it hard to comment), but for me that's not a bad thing. On the contrary, you leave me breathless. Besides, who could top Anna's analysis? I agree with Jen too, about your diction, just inspiring. Unmooring and searching - and your comments reveal how hard you work on your craft. The photo too is rich.

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  31. Joy, you had me with the opening line, and carried me all the way to the end. Beautiful poem.

    Pamela

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  32. Thanks, Mark. I know what you mean about the difficulty of commenting adequately-I often feel that way at your place. I think making these rounds we have to read under pressure, and all we can do is give our first impressions--true understanding comes later. I appreciate your words, and thank you for them. The pic was a find--I love flick'r.

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  33. Thanks, Pamela--I loved yours as well.

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  34. Joy,
    What I love most about your poetry is its clear intelligence. Everything I read here is characterised by such obvious learning that I'm forced to think deeply about intent and meaning.
    Much of your imagery is startlingly original and all that you write possess a unsentimental authenticity. Brilliant! James.

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  35. Broken leg of darkness, omg, lovely.

    Witchfire burning night's garden down again, omg, lovely.

    The olde salmon hood over the moon and that all-seeing eye ever peering, omg, lovely.

    A+++ on this one!

    xo

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  36. love that opening line as others have also highlighted..."bleaching to bone, fleshing to rose"...nice...the contrasts of color imagined here...bkm

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  37. "a humid white cast
    on the broken leg of darkness"

    I echo Fireblossom: that's perfect.

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  38. I loved a lot of this, but I'm useless to add anything to all that has been written here. You're still my hero.

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  39. Wonderful evocation of storm.. intense exciting language.. Powerful read.. thanks..

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  40. Lovely!! You really have a beautiful way with words, Joy...
    " I can't
    wake up the feeling sleeping inside my skin;
    hold the sky still for me, so I can see
    what's there, or not" -- these lines really spoke to me! I think I've been there myself...
    There are moments of darkness when everything is seen in a new light.. and then there are moments of bright light when everything seems to be black and unknown! Alas, these are the ways we have to deal with, I suppose...

    But really, your expression and the intensity in your words are simply stunning!!

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  41. Thanks Jannie, Barbara, MZ, Gay and everyone who's taken the time to comment. Glad you liked.

    @Kavita: You never cease to amaze me with the way you think and look at things. Thanks for reading and for your understanding comment.

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  42. Wow, Joy, you rocked the images in this one...so fresh, so alive for a realm that is old as the turn of time. I am in awe and amazed at what your mind conjures descriptively to paint the picture. "soft salmon hood" & "broken leg of darkness" are so brilliant. Amazing, vivid write ~

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  43. I felt myself surrounded by these elemental forces, bleak, mighty, towering over this small human shell. Very immersive reading experience.
    Gene

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