Saturday, March 21, 2015

Night Ride






Night Ride





Don't let go the mane of the mare,
the mercury mare married to night.
Look down, love, at her wild eye-white,

turn your face to her cinnamon stare,
the jeweler's work deep-set in her skull
bridging abyss, canceling null.

Don't draw back from her wire-harsh hair;
she's your only way in, only way out,
my Dancer on memory, Rider of doubt.    

Fill your eyes with her fine Arab air; 
the delicate leg, the hooves henna-bright
pacing the years from sundown to light.

You know she'll toss you, but not just where--
which rippled well, which beckoned bend.
Only let go where the fall never ends.

Lay your hand on the mane of the mare,
bury your face in her cinnamon stare.
Comb the wind from her wire-harsh hair,
fill your cup with her fine Arab air;
you know she'll toss you, but you don't know where.



~March 2015


 



posted for     real toads



Challenge: Play it Again with Margaret

The discerning eye of Margaret Bednar (ArtHappens365) once again winnows out three selections from the plethora of past Garden challenges . I have chosen to try my hand at one of Kerry O'Connor's form challenges, The Constanza, explained with all Kerry's usual clarity HERE.  
Caveat: I have not, however, stayed completely faithful to it.







Images: Bathing Horses, by Volodymyr Orlovsky    public domain via wikiart.org
Rearing Horse, by Leonardo da Vinci, 1503   public domain via wikiart.org

  




21 comments:

  1. Oh .. whenever you write form it becomes something quite extra.. I love how you expanded the lines to become something quite different.. from the horse.. and to me also becoming an extended metaphor, being something more than the description of the horse...

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  2. Ah lovely-- great music here and a wonderful central image-- a great deal of movement-- the envoie (I will call it at the end) works so well--one is not even quite conscious of the repetition-- more like an echo just moved past-- I'll come back but still under cloud. K.

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  3. Love the form and gorgeous word pairing - wild eye-night, cinnamon stare, wire marsh hair ~ What a mercury mare, too wild to be tamed ~ The last stanza weaved it beautifully ~

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  4. A magnificent poem which reads with the beat of horses' hooves. One of ours is an Arab and they have a lot of fire.

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  5. You ROCKED this! I love the lines that brought this to fruition and the progression...it did not feel like form. Excellent, Hedge!

    I love this in particular, "bury your face in her cinnamon stare." but also, as I said...your closing stanza (!) I love it. :)

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  6. Ah, this is sublime! So beautiful, the painting and the words together. I am thrilled at how you changed the first lines so slightly when you placed them altogether at the end.

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    1. Thanks, Kerry. Yes, i felt that I had to vary the lines as otherwise all the repetition at the end--with five a-rhymes in a row--seemed too mechanical--also cheated a bit here and there on the meter, though tetrameter does seem to suit the feel of a galloping horse. ;_) Enjoyed working with this form.

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  7. this poem is like an exquisite painting...i love specially "the hooves henna-bright"

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  8. Hey Hedge--it works so well to have all those first lines as imperatives--I think this may be one reason why the repetition, with the the changes, works so well--there is an urging here and the repetition feels like an increase in the exigency. There is a lot of cool physical description--I was puzzling a bit over an initial conflict (for me) with eye bright white--I know I don't have that quite right and the cinnamon stare, but it really does work well, especially when you bring in the jeweler taking it from null--there certainly is that aspect of a horse's eyes--sometimes they seem totally there and engaged--the stare--and other times--the eye-white--well--null describes it very well--but of course, it seems you want the horse to take you too or from another null--that is this world of night musing/insomnia/dream/ beckoned bend, and rippled well--the memory and doubt--and the fall never ending is particularly dreamlike there--anyway--I thought it worked very well--I personally am not very adept at riding that horse--I tend to get very plebeian at night, ride something more like an ant crawling busily over the same old hump. k.

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    1. I was thinking of how horses roll their eyes so that the whites show, when they are startled--but if they stare at you, their brown irises are what you see. So, method in my madness. I feel very guilty that you are puzzling over the poem when you are so unwell--go drink some fluids--koala tea, perhaps?--and rest up! And thanks, as always, for your thoughts.

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  9. No a pleasure-- and that was exactly the image that I got-- the rolling eye refocusing. Which suits the night gallop. K.

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  10. This is such a feast of imagery! Gorgeous and wild, Hedge.

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  11. A form like this seems made to show off your strengths. Your lines should be repeated--sung even.

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  12. Okay, I know it's a metaphor, but I love it simply as a horse poem. It flows and rolls so smoothly, and is just a pleasure to read.

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  13. This was marvelous... creative...
    ZQ

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  14. As you probably have heard, I've been spending a long time in James Hillman's "Dream and Underworld," a look at dreaming as a gnosis of death -- anyhoo, this fine poem makes the mythic animal of a bad dream -- the night-mare -- and whips up is charm by both abandoning the speaker to the dream's dark cogitations ("only let go where the fall never ends") at the same time lavishing precious details of this horse's appearance - a gentle intimacy with this animal. Without both extremes the poem couldn't have worked as well in its rhyme corset. Great stuff.

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  15. If there were nothing but the last stanza it would still be glorious.

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  16. This reads like a dance between mare and rider. At times, I can see the rider's reluctance as he or she sings lessons learned in his or her head, while watching the magnificent beast be stunningly wild. The poem let me touch the mare's mane, feel the tension between rider and beast, wonder about the "doubt"...

    Yum.

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  17. I was reading this aloud; the cadence and susurrus and that cinnamon stare just floored me. ~

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  18. This is gorgeous..has a real epic feel to it. "Her cinnamon stare" is absolutely luscious. Love it. And that photo is stunning.

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