Saturday, July 13, 2013

The Faun


The Faun



Through
 the leaf crackle
I followed the faun
from the red hollow
of the sleeper's dawn
to the dusk's clearing
of the missed trees
in the deep woods of
what used to be.

On his brown forehead
he wore seven stars.
On his root-wrists were
 my own shackle scars.
The smile on his face
candled off and on:
warm and loving,
vanished,
gone.

He dimmed and guttered
his grey foglight flame;
the sigh of his death-breath
was the call of my name
to out-see the blue sail
of the moon's shadow raft.

I danced alone in the clearing ;
the old gods laughed.




~May 2013
rebuilt July 2013






posted for     real toads
Weekend Challenge:Live A Little
"People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our..experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality; so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive."
~Joseph Campbell
The ever-incandescent Fireblossom asks us to write of our passions--this poem contains several of mine. 

Sidenote: Corot is most known for his landscapes, but he also painted many women over his prolific, five-decade plus career; all of them, even the little girls, have this same remote and ancient gaze.








Images: Top--High definition photo of blood vessels in the human eye,
via I fucking love science on Facebook.
Footer: Repose, by Camille Corot, 1860
Public Domain via wikipaintings.org




19 comments:

  1. some really wonderful elements...love the candled smile...your own shackle marks on his wrists...the 7 stars on its head...his sigh of death being your name...the dancing...witchy in a good way...smiles...

    love the trees in the eye of that first pic too...

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  2. One of the best poems I have EVER read,Hedge. LYRICALLY beautiful and poignant. Especially love "from the red hollow of the sleeper's dawn"....."warm and loving, vanished, gone"....and then :the old gods laughed". Wowzers, kiddo. Filled me right up.

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  3. It took several readings, first a mist, then a stream, then a soaking in, finally this write washed over me. Compact, lyric, an entire tale: this piece resonates and echoes and stays humming. ~ M

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  4. A foot print, yes? I like your faun, and like Brian and Sherry, I find your poetic descriptions singular and beautiful. This particularly resonates for me, as a doe who occasionally shows up on the most rural part of my mail route bore a faun last spring, but it died, evidently of a disease that was hitting the deer that year. There wasn't a mark on her. It really saddened me. I especially remember her perfect hooves, and wondering how a creature so perfectly formed could be lying there dead. Of course, the deeper shiver in such moments is the knowledge that these other creatures--and people--simply went before me, and that I will follow. Mortality is a tough nut to accept, but i do think it demands passion from us; live now, act now, because the opportunities are not endless.

    The seven stars and the root-wrists were particularly vivid, to me. Thanks so much for this contribution for my challenge, Hedge. From the poem, which brought tears to my eyes, to the labels, one of which made me laugh out loud, this is first rate stuff.

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  5. Extraordinary take on the prompt of what makes you feel alive. Being in the spiritual realm you explain after your writing. It is through the other comments that I came to find your poetry far more intimate and on target than my first reading. My brain processes differently so it takes me awhile. Beautiful visions and heart-wrenching yet also beautiful moments. In spite of death, we live our lives.

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  6. ~~ simply enchanting. 'root-wrists .. death-breath .. the old gods laughed' lingering in my mind.

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  7. First, love Corot also.(I lost my first comment and it is very late here (or feels late here) so may not be very coherent, but I love the ebullience you describe - the unshackling into a kind of ecstatic experience, which is, if not why we live, what we remember. And that ecstasy is never so sweet (or so calm and contented) as when remembered with nostalgia - what used to be. Thanks. k.

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  8. Beautifully penned Hedge ~ The imagery is outstanding - dusk clearing of the missed trees, seven stars, sigh of his death breath, blue sail of moon's shadow raft ~

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  9. Once again, Hedge, a freakin' feast!! This is SO delicious...so many desirable morsels to indulge in. I really love your approach and the image and quote fit your poem perfectly, too! Love the faun...Awesome work!

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  10. Incredibly beautiful, Joy. I particularly love this, especially the last three lines:
    The smile on his face
    candled off and on:
    warm and loving,
    vanished,
    gone.

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  11. "in the deep woods of what used to be" Love that...I remember early morning walks and the times deer appeared right in front of me walking out of the morning fog...Each morning was so spiritual. Sadly I can no longer take them. I came upon an attempted burglary and my husband insisted I no longer walk alone...I am sentenced to a treadmill. This is such a magical piece and expression of what makes you feel alive.

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  12. Rich and moving. Ecstatic is a perfect word for this.

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  13. Hi--came back because I was so tired the other day. I read this as mythical faun - like the guy in CS Lewis - and really here rather a dream muse - the waking up in a reverie of dream and nostalgia and preceived understanding and the slowly dawning onto not being quite sure what the inspiration was all about but caught in the dance anyway, even if the patterns are not so clear. You seem to get a lot of imagery from dream, so I'm just guessing at that. A lovely poem. And certainly a dream is like a magical gift with the ribbons attached elsewhere - I may have this all wrong but it all certainly gives life if not clear direction. Why I am guessing that the gods laugh at how we celebrate it, looking. k.

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    Replies
    1. PS- I have to say that I personally have never quite felt comfortable with the idea of fauns! But I am awfully down to earth, and perhaps a bit paranoid too. The idea of a hitchhiker in disguise keeps coming into my brain. I love your tages. k.

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    2. Yes, I was meaning the mythical faun, and they certainly are not a sunshine-and-light sort of thing--hitchhiker in disguise (I believe they are cousins to satyrs) sounds apropos--anyway, they aren't human, despite their musical, pan-flute playing abilities. Thanks so much for coming back and reading again, k--really appreciate it--you have nailed what I was going for here exactly, though I certainly don;t mind if some prefer the baby deer route. ;_)Hope your weekend was good.

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  14. I love this whole post, the photo, the messages in your poem~ I feel like I'm on a journey wanting to follow your poetic path~
    Gorgeous!
    @>----------

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  15. So...
    You're a stalker, a wrist shackling dominatrix, and you like to dance alone naked?
    What a wonderful insight into your inner-hedgeness...Thanks

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  16. Sending a hug and a thank you ... Gemini/Scorpio/Capricorn got me through the first few hours (ultimately five of them) of waiting while my son had six titanium posts implanted into his jaws yesterday. He came through it beautifully. I was a mess. Poetry is good for the psyche (especially poetry of the three goddesses.)

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