Friday, March 30, 2012

Flash And Thunder

winter time

Flash And Thunder



Flash and thunder can’t break the panes in
the hothouse I keep at heart's core    
where you’re centered in my cells
moonflower on fire
where no careless-shut
door can let in
a flash of
killing
frost.

Frost
curdles
as sure as
fire consumes
or flood waters drown
but who wouldn't plead for
quick burning over a soaked
sponge of lung or the long white death,
stiff in winter's numbing arms alone.



March 2012



Posted for   Fireblossom Friday   at real toads
where her challenge is to write on a topic, er... embodied... by some aspect(s) of the physical body.



This is a more or less a nonet (or maybe two) a syllable counting form of nine lines, beginning with nine syllables and ending with one. I've arbitrarily introduced a second stanza and reversed the form, going from one syllable to nine. 




Image: winter time, by micmol, on flick'r
Shared under a Creative Commons 2.0 Generic License 

34 comments:

  1. The form itself is fascinating,
    and your skill leaves me envious,
    the poem frigidly sizzles
    and the ending chills;
    an excellent contrast! :)

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    1. Thanks Matt. Always love to see you here and get your perspective.

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  2. I love the shape that your double nonet has given to the end product. Your metaphor seems to surge through the form. I was saying yesterday how much I love personification when it is used with subtlety, and your last line is a perfect example.

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    1. Thanks Kerry--you are doing a great job in your series as well--I love poems that draw on personal experience, but teach us something of a larger identity withe lands and people we may not know but are also joined with in this small world.

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  3. Chilling choices. It's cool how you reversed the form. I like how I feel I'm going down, buried. Just yesterday Brendan posted about the Icelandic poppy, and you are also making me pay attention to fire and ice. Is it a portent?

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    1. So many things are--too bad we don't have the old readers to tell us what they mean, yes? But maybe working it out for ourselves is a sign of progress for us as individuals? Thanks for the 'going down' observation, the form's a sort of Escher staircase, and that's kind of what I was trying to say--though the less obvious aspect is that all staircases go two ways. Thanks for reading, Ruth.

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  4. where you’re centered in my cells
    moonflower on fire...

    Really love the feeling these lines produce and the whole of your poem really edging in with deep meaning. Excellent!

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    1. Thanks hannah--that's my favorite line, too.

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  5. So I guess its better to burn out than fade away eh. The poem's shape suggests though its six of one, half dozen of the other. Pick yer poison, the bones stroll either way. - Brendan

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    1. Yes, the second stanza is rather less positive than the first, but the poem felt unbalanced without it. Still, I don't think the message is that ambiguous.Thanks for stopping by, B.

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  6. Wow! I'm so impressed with the look of this form. Such skill to write a poem that carries its message so eloquently within the confines of syllable-counts. You are so good, girl! Love "a soaked sponge of lung or the long white death" - whew! (are you writing about me?)

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    1. Thanks Sherry. Maybe you have to be, umm, mature, before you really identify with that line. ;-)

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  7. This is a great poem--all elements on fire. That said, I don't think I agree with its final premise. (I think in reality people would actually take almost any death over burning. Living in downtown Manhattan, can't help thinking of all the people jumping out.)

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  8. Still really like the poem! And certainly, in a relationship, the slow frost is pretty awful. (Didn't mean to be quite so dire before.) K.

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    1. You do have a point, actually burning to death isn't all that quick, unless you die of the carbon monoxide smoke poisoning before the smolder sets in.Perhaps I shouldn't have been so convinced that my own choice was universal. I'd rather die anyway than by drowning--and of course, all of it, especially the freeze is pure metaphor. Thanks for your honest reaction, K. I always value it.

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  9. I love this form, and the words - wow! You've crafted something really great here.

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    1. Glad you enjoyed, Shanyn. Thanks for visiting.

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  10. Cool form and the use of frost asfirst and last is killer. I feel like I am wathcing the opening of a dark thriller when I read those forst too lines, they are spectacular...you have done it again.

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    1. Thanks, Corey. This was a very short little fragment that came originally, and I wanted to work it up a bit--playing with the nonet form was a lot of fun, but it doesn't work well with a longer or more complex idea. This was just about as far as you could push it.

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  11. After reading the other comments I think I totally misunderstood this :P I thought it was about passion, the kind life partners share and the alternatives. I got some great images from it, even if they were all wrong.

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    1. No, you're exactly on target. That's what I meant above by it all being metaphor. This is totally about the fuel the heart burns to keep us alive, and what consumes us at the final and appropriate moment. Thanks for pushing the reset button, and for coming over to read, DA.

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  12. like sherry, i like that lung line a lot. the form drew me in and reminds me there's something to be said for an appetizing-looking plate of food.

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  13. There is something to like about all of this. Each line has depth and passion too. Even the burn of frost is a reminder that it eventually does kill.
    Really enjoyed this and the interview about you over at Toads.

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  14. I love these lines:

    "where you’re centered in my cells
    moonflower on fire"

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  15. I really like the form you have used. "Frost curdles"...what an image!

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  16. I love "moonflower on fire." You do the coolest stuff with words. And hey, there's got to be that hothouse, and the flash and thunder, or life would get frosty indeed.

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  17. I love the form of the poem. Great contrast from beginning to end.

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  18. "sponge of lung or the long white death,
    stiff in winter's numbing arms alone."

    Aw, hell. That hurts to even read. Killer write, Hedge.

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    1. smiles....i like the mirror affect in your words one stanza to the next...hot to cold...they both burn just a bit different...and def the lung line is hot (heh) and has a wicked flow to it as well...thanks for being you hedge...

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  19. smokin' hot, wow. love how the killing frost can't get in even if somebody CARELESSLY leaves the door open. that's some serious heat.

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  20. 'moonflower on fire..'..how beautiful. love your words choices and the form. for some reason this makes me think of a supernova's explosion in the cold dark galaxy..waves of heat spreading for thousands of miles.

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  21. Love the form and the emotion in this piece..."moonflower on fire, frost curdles" so much to love an appreciate in this piece.

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  22. Passionate love can survive furious arguments and chilling silences... I also see a breast in your form... Kept thinking that was part of the poem, but I don't think so. (sorry :)

    This really rocks when read aloud... as so much of your poetry does.

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    1. Gosh! Not intentional, but now you mention it, whoa! Leave it to a visual artist to notice these things. O well, it sort of suits the poem, I guess. Thanks for your kind words, Margaret.

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