Monday, June 2, 2014

Gone Girl





Gone Girl



Girl of a summer morning
girl of a falling feather
blue in larkspur weather
girl without a mooring.

Light from a broken candle's
bright as any other flame;
no need to call her name
she's there before you ask her.

Raven on her shoulder,
fox sleeping at her feet,
ruin falls sugar sweet
before the snow enfolds her.

Clouds eat up the starshow,
moon's locked in her pantry,
night puts light in chancery;
girl's gone where summers go.


~June 2014

posted for      real toads
Open Link Monday






Image: Summer, 1896, Alphonse Mucha
public domain via wikiart.org

22 comments:

  1. I feel I'm seeing the entire Garden, which, like utopian Arcadia, contains its own demise.

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  2. This is just beautiful. I am a great fan of Mucha's illustrations and your words are the perfect accompaniment- the light touch, and airy feel of the descriptions create an enchantment of their own.

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  3. enchanting. reads like a Brother's Grimm story line.
    gracias for this piece of a 'free bird'.

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  4. Oh I read the girl as something I would have within my heart as spring and summer is upon us...

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  5. "Girls' gone where summers go." This is simply wonderful writing.

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  6. brilliant. exploding with sensual color and warmth. this piece feels polished, both skirting and embracing time, very much like Mucha's work

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    1. Thanks, jane. I like how he's drawn her so that she has what we call around here a farmer tan--face, neck and forearms--she just *is* summer.

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  7. she seems but a dream at times....quite the character you created in her...unmoored and here before i ask and gone before i tire...she keeps interesting company in the raven and the fox as well...nice dance in your words joy...

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  8. this is really quite beautiful! is this a tarot card? looks so much like one...reminds me of a tarot card writing deck i saw on amazon.com once.

    stacy lynn mar
    http://warningthestars.blogspot.com/

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  9. I love the part about light from a broken candle. I feel like this girl, sometimes.

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  10. Any poem with the word "chancery" gets extra credit in my book. It is such a great and intriguing word. As a lawyer, I can't help thinking of it as the court of equity--where, perhaps, deals are made for fairness, but also where things can be held in stasis a very long time a la Jarndyce and Jarndyce. But because it's a poem, chancery also feels like a place of chance--that is one where risk is taken. Here I feel like the girl is gone before we hardly knew her. I especially, like Shay, like the line about the light from a broken candle, but can't help thinking that light from a broken candle may be just as bright, but is also shorter, and there is that rushed fleeting feeling here--too quick gone. The Sugar sweet feels like maple to me--how quick they turn. Agh!!!!!! Lovely poem, but I wish she were here to stay a while. Wonderful rhyme/rhythm and slant rhyme. k.

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    1. Thanks, k. You got me thinking about slant rhyme, and now I'm hooked on it. You get the feeling I had when writing this very well--the years that seemed so long are now just...gone.

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  11. Oh, wow. This feel wonderful . . . like you're testing it on your tongue. Gorgeous work, Hedge.

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  12. She is a bit mystical..this is an enchanting poem..

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  13. a crisp clear vision exploding in a bag of cotton candy like some kind of imagined sun discharging golden rum . . . and I am definitely drunk on its sum.

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  14. The summer is gone and the girl is gone, both so fleeting. Hasn't life been like that...

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  15. I love the bittersweetness of this, celebrating and grieving the summer that so fleetingly flutters through our bones.I remember the start of summer vacation as a kid lying in the back yard of my house in Evanston, staring at the clouds and wondering how long and sweet the summer will be. Now summer is over before it begins, it seems. Where did that girl go?

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    1. I think summer's a bit more special up North--I know here it's mostly a trial, with its heat and drought--you have heat, rain and clinging humidity, surely no better---winter is much gentler, as well. I too remember the trance of those first summer days on Evanston's suddenly green ground. Thanks for reading, B.

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  16. Girls gone where summers go....love that. I feel there is a bit of you in this.

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