By The Pools of Mnemosyne
Somewhere after the first sip,
in your fingers falling across the harp,
I found tangled the smell of rain
on dying earth.
Somewhere in the night air
of your whisper-scent
grass bent and shivered
as I, my love, so bent,
a ripple in larger tremblings
small in the vast, there
beside the pools of Memory,
washed away, tumbled in the flood
of all that had been and yet couldn't be.
Once in the labyrinth you were my string,
another tangle, a sharp discord
that broke and left me wandering,
where each curve was made to return to me
what I left behind in the fragrant rain,
too wild to know, too wayward to see
I'd beg to find Lethe across every plane.
Process Notes: Mnemosyne (from which we get the word mnemonic) was the Greek goddess of memory., and the mother of the nine muses. She also had a pool in Hades that was the mirror-image of the river Lethe, where instead of being granted forgetfulness after drinking from it, the dead remembered everything from their past lives.
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Challenge: The Art of Odilon Redon
I have the helm at the pond today for our Poems-in-April-fest, and I chose an ekphrasis challenge, to be drawn from the work of French painter, lithographer, pastelist and illustrator, Odilon Redon. For details, and to join us, please check out the real toads link above. Is it May yet???
Images: The Reflection, and Head On A Stem, by Odilon Redon
Public domain, via wikipaintings.org.