Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Kalypso's Candle



The Desire, by Remedios Vara


Kalypso's Candle




A candle of corpse wax
rum and Chopin
strike through the redacts
of the trembling hand,
where the hum of the sparrowhawk
droning in flight
makes the dream that courses
hunting in darkness
while yesterday's night
strips tomorrow's light,
in the hardwired room
beyond the sun, behind the moon.

The boat was a pea pod   
split while still green
(not a miniscule Pequod
produced by machine,)
rising in weeds, bobbing on acid
of the ceaseless same.
Kalypso castrates the chorus
hunting in darkness
searching the sea fret for an absent name
by runesmoke firelight and candleflame,
singing for deliverance, sinking sleep
under the undertow, nine miles deep.


~November, 2012
 





Posted for   OpenLinkNight   at dVerse Poets Pub


If you would like to hear the poem read by the author, please click below:




Process Notes: Kalypso was a nymph who imprisoned Odysseus on her remote island, enchanting him with her singing. After seven years, Odysseus escaped, desiring to return to his faithful wife Penelope.
The Pequod was the ship of Captain Ahab in Herman Melville's Moby Dick 



Header Image: The Desire, by Remedios Varo
All Copyright belongs to the copyright holders
Footer Image: Paul Gauguin's Armchair, by Vincent Van Gogh
Public Domain, both images via wikipaintings.org






39 comments:

  1. dang hedge....the textures in this are almost overwelming...that first one in particular...the form and or rhyme scheme...its tight...it feels almost like an incantation of sorts honestly...ok, you got a shiver out of me...smiles.

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  2. Yikes - this one - the corpse wax is really quite chilling, I can't help thinking of other users of the stuff-though the rum and Chopin take me from that grimness to the kind of brainwashed space Kalypso seems to be setting up here - it really does bring to mind the most awful delerium - to me anyway - some stuckness where even the beautiful is eating away at today.

    I think oddly of time I spent in India (in Goa) where there a not insubstantial number of Westerners who had become addicted to heroin, that was readily available through Afghani traders at the beach - it was smoked there - a place of sparrowhawks too -but I digress -

    Still I can't help thinking of that induced lostness - trapped in a seeming beauty - sort of - agh - very captivating, seductive - pretty awful - Of course, I may have a completely wrong take- (my mind even goes to certain generals now -but that's just me, I'm sure.)

    Very captivating poem - beautiful language and music, sharp knife in all that lush.

    k.

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    1. Thanks k--I appreciate your reading and input. As per brian's remarks above, I actually made up a form for this one because it scared me in the wild.(ababxcxxccdd)The Xbox stanza?;_)

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    2. Yes - I loved the form - it's really cool and musical. I would not call it the Xbox stanza! (Rather the Music Box Stanza.) Even if you wrote it in a Microsoft format. Though computers certainly supply their own Kalypso trances. k.

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  3. That myth provides endless inspiration.

    I really enjoy the alliteration, which explodes and recedes, kind of like a wave for that pea pod boat. As always, wonderful images.

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  4. There is something bold and musical about your form that suits the calypso of Kalypso. I am a great fan of Remedios Varo's surrealism, and your imagery is a striking accompaniment.

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  5. A candle of corpse wax
    rum and Chopin...that opening gave me already goosebumps..awesome imagery hedge and cool story as well...i could imprison no one with my singing i think...smiles

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  6. A sense of profound loss permeates the atmosphere of your well told tale. The overwhelming weight of the water stuns at the end.

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  7. As always, Hedge, your depth sails well over my head, but the beauty draws me and translates.
    This was truly wonderful
    And i'll wonder of his motive for escape for some time. And of her methods.
    Great piece

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  8. Gorgeous! Sea frets and runesmoke humming and rising in weeds!

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  9. this has the most incredible cadence, so lyrical and beautiful and poignant and sad...
    which of course, makes it a perfect poem.

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  10. Beyond the sun...behind the moon...LOVE this line! Will be repeating all evening now...just a stunning example of your talent, Hedge. Love! Love! Love!

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  11. "bobbing on acid"
    That's all I need to know about how this one got written!

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    1. well, I was thinking stomach acid, but whatever floats your pea pod, Timo.

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  12. This had me reading hard, and slow. There are some strong images; I had to check a few out, especially the “corpse wax”. It certainly set the feeling and tone for this. So very nice. I don’t normally prefer form, but what do I know, especially when it works. I also like the sparrow hawk droning so I was reading on Sparrow haws (and it’s getting late, Joy!) (I like hawks—Robinson Jeffers, I recall). And then there’s the castrating Kalypso. This is definitely very dream-like…and the undertow…you touch many images that resonate with me. And funny that I almost posted a Ulysses poem that I have, but then didn’t. This was very good.

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    1. Thank you Alberto. I enjoyed yours as well, though you didn't make me work as hard. I wrote a poem about a cavewoman once that yours reminded me of:
      http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com/2011/02/venus-of-brassempouy.html

      you might enjoy it.

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  13. Rum and Chopin ... great imagery here, a great write.

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  14. adore these four line. simply lovely--

    while yesterday's night
    strips tomorrow's light,
    in the hardwired room
    beyond the sun, behind the moon

    great work hedgewitch...really enjoyed this ~ C.

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  15. the riff swings a shiver thru the current washing over,
    forging out new paths of imagery and seat shifting
    (looking over my shoulder as i listen)

    while yesterday's night
    strips tomorrow's light,
    in the hardwired room
    beyond the sun, behind the moon.

    the pattern is of-the-hook as it traces a soft seam
    over a hardcore breaker like the above extract (which is shocking for all its simplicity - yet what you make it do is fire conceptual gamma ray warp! without a shrieked warning . . . bam!

    its delivered and there is no going back . . .

    The boat was a pea pod
    split while still green
    (not a miniscule Pequod
    produced by machine,)

    hoo wee! fine fine fine!

    chilling bones - - - no wonder VVG pissed off to bed and left the candle burning!

    he never did strike me as a health and safety type of guy!





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    1. Ha-No, Herr VG was a wild child and actually probably not the person you'd want to be trapped sitting next to at the bar. You might cut your own ear off. Just read a bio of him--he was a case and a half. Thanks for reading (and writing) Arron.

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    2. PS. But his art always speaks to me so eloquently of all the blue places.

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  16. your layering has an oblique depth. where waters and islands are concerned, this is fitting. there is a haunting quality to this, also a confidence born of something... love maybe, or obsession. I enjoyed your form and hardly noticed it until it was mentioned and I reread with cognition. we are drenched in rain here in the PNW- it often feels like hunting in darkness/searching the sea. however temporary, Kalypso has made her mark.

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  17. Wow, this is so good, every line. Captivatingly rich, full of fantastic imagery. Great piece.

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  18. There is a deep dreami-ness in this that appeals...there are so many undertows in our dreams, so much hunting, and the candles and rum sometimes help to show a way...Poetry is a kind of delirium and your voice is the intoxicating Kalypso here, finding it's own form, which moves your imagery and our trip on it all the way from sky to sea. Pardon the stream of consciousness reaction at first reading. There is complexity and layers and resonance in this and I'm going to revisit. Fine writing, Joy.

    SK

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    1. Thank you Steve. You know I always appreciate your insightful readings and reactions.

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  19. I really like when you read. "under the undertow,nine miles deep", sounded almost soothing or peaceful.
    Great tunes. Kieth must of had a life in West Texas. ..."Hey Babe, you got my soul..."

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    1. One of the best love songs ever, I think--of course the Stones did have a country phase, and I can easily see Keef in a redneck bar playing the jukebox, or riffing with a pedal steel band. Thanks for stopping by, Scott. There is indeed a peace that comes when you bury an impossible, fraying dream.

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  20. Intelligent and perceptive as always Joy. To hear you read was an added and much welcome revelation. Hypnotic and shot through with humanity. Great job. James.

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  21. Joy Ann, your use of mythology in your writing is always stunning. This has a great flow to it. Did I read that this was written from a dream you had? Very intense imagery, well done.

    Pamela
    p.s. late getting round to read, I didn't think I had a poem in me this week.

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  22. This is such a perfect melding of the myth and Vara's art with your own dreams, rhythm and rhyme to sing it along. I love runesmoke firelight and how it connects on both an intellectual and subliminal level.

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  23. "while yesterday's night
    strips tomorrow's light"
    Like the sound as well as the imagery. Nice piece.

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  24. I love the closing lines to both stanzas.

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  25. Imagery and language are superb at creating this under the undertow edge. Wonderful poetry... love how you've explored Kalypso with a K... very much appreciate your comments on my calypso with a C

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  26. This is wonderful Joy! The imagery is great and such a nice soothing voice. Nicely!

    Hank

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  27. Thank you for the literature lesson in the end. (It always helps me :) I must say, this is a must to read out loud in front of the fire. I'm going to do that over Thanksgiving break and see what each family member gets out of it. I'll come back and let you know. (I printed it out)

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    1. Thank you, Margaret--I'm very flattered that you'd want to share this with your family. I love to think of my poems going out and being read like that--and happy to hear any feedback. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

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    2. I'm going to ask my daughter (a visual art's student) take a piece of paper and pen and draw how this makes her feel. If we are lucky, she might do a quick painting. Curious what my "poet" son will think as well as many of these images he likes.

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