Friday, December 6, 2019

The Keeper's Dream










The Keeper's Dream




Wild darkness grows tame lightning
blue light from wrinkled hands;
 St Elmo's fire, stormscream, water
pushed into a weapon,
air's hysterics
my mates in this dark place.  
From the dead sailor's dream I know
your cry, snaking
up the spiral spine of things,
to warn the time is here
when even fishes will need wings.



~December 2019













A quick and dirty 55--forgive if my tools are still a bit rusty--with thanks to Kerry for all the glories, past and present, of The Imaginary Garden, and to the G-Man for the form which never fails.





Images: Pharos and Pacifico Oracle cards, © Kerry O'Connor
Attribution Link

20 comments:

  1. A most gorgeous and compelling piece of writing, Hedgewitch!❤️

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  2. I can just picture the keeper dozed off in his rocker as a storm rages outside and make its way into his troubled sleep. He better wake up and attend to his work, before there are waking disasters to deal with. ;-)

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  3. I love the way words link together, or fork like lightning here.. the scream and dream of it all.. and what an inspired ending to tie the whole theme of unravelling together.
    Thank you, Hedge. Certainly, the 55 never fails, and nothing better on a Friday.
    Here's to you, Galen and me! Three cheers.

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  4. OH! MY! GOODNESS! "A time when even fishes will need wings." I resonate with the stormscream, and the spiral spine of things, making me think of the winding metal stairs curving up the lighthouse. It is wonderful to read you, Joy.

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  5. that spiral spine - visually and emotively compelling. the lighthouse in Pacific Grove was unmanned - just a rotating beacon, picturesque nonetheless, but missing the depth of dreaming ~

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    1. Technology has a tendency to do that. Thanks, M.

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  6. Yes, this really is an evocative piece of writing. It is always good when words paint a picture for you.

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  7. When you throw fish about like that I imagine they would like wings to aid in their return to the sea. Maybe when the storm is calmed some.

    At sea I often looked out at the particular patch of ocean I was riding on and wondered if any of the fallen were beneath us; dreaming perhaps of being in my position aboard the ship.

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    1. I should have known you for an old sailor, Mark. Thanks for reading.

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  8. I think all lighthouse keepers dream; the sound of the sea and the intimacy with the tides and weather must stir up all kinds of dreams. I love the imagery in this poem, the light and sound of the ‘wild darkness’ and the ‘air’s hysterics’, the word ‘stormscream’, and the ‘cry, snaking / up the spiral spine of things’ – spiral staircases in lighthouses are quite sinister!

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  9. How vast dreams must be for the watchers, up in the air o'er the marge o' the sea, day after year after century into night ... Up there alone in the company of the bewitched, algow in Elmo, spiritous with stormhooves, the jigs of dead merriment. So much so that one wonders just what this Keeper is watching, what underflow directs the beacon's song. And what cry when what danger mounts beyond all measure, "when even fishes will need wings." Just adore a ghost chantey mounted on a spiral stair of civilized attention, well friggen done. And a toff of 55 whale-hats to Galen and you and Kerry. Aweigh!

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    1. Thanks B--a tower that is also a womb, bones of the old salts at your feet, tesla special effects, wind and wave unchained and treasure sunken--what's not to love? Seems we are all afloat in a vast dream these days, wandering and wondering...

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  10. I've seen flying fish..a short flight, but still amazing. Your very first line drew me in, "wild darkness grows tame lightening." Wow! "Snaking up the spiral spine of things" that one really speaks to me. Marvelous writing..So happy to be reading your work again.

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    1. Thank you Susie. It's good to feel a pen in my hands again--or a keyboard, more factually. :_)

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  11. I love how you went from the comfort of the light through the false beacons and the way we can never be safe... great how you tied the two images together.

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  12. The World of Hedge ~ wondrous.

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  13. The opening line of this is truly killer. and then you hit us with when even fish need wings.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats