Sunday, September 18, 2011

September Storm

September Storm

Lightning’s not like clouds
full of castles and horses
elephants and eagles;
it’s all skinny fishbones
fish hooks and the
skeletons of dragons
lich lightlines walking and 
no pouffe at all.

So with you light of my heart
just a lightning strike against a
shuttered lid,
so with me just a bunch of
dried rosemary
twigging in the wind, so with
love just a rack of bones to pick
of what once was,

a september 
electric sweet still
sighing, sensed, scented 
on memory's nightblue fingers.

September 2011


  1. nice description of the lightning...the second stanza relating relationships to bones to pick of what once was...ack....

  2. storms, be they of nature or life....a brilliant write

  3. "memory's nightblue fingers." Wow. I noticed the dragon skeleton too, as opposed to the cloud dragon. You're so good at this. Stop it! :-P

  4. Some wonderful imagery and use of alliteration. I like the effect you achieve in the second stanza with the repeating "so with..." You create a kind of staccato effect that mimic's lightning's strike.

  5. Sometimes you have to grab that tall metal pole to get the full embrace of the power of what once was and can always be.

  6. WOW, so many gorgeous lines - skinny fishbones, skeletons of dragons...."with me just a bunch of dried rosemary twigging in the wind", and your killer last line. Yes, you are very very good at this. Whew!

  7. As I said earlier I adore this but now I'm back to sing its praises. I loved every word, every word, but I lingered over some phrases. 'Lich lightlines walking' gave me an immediate chill, a heart stopping visual. 'lightening strike against a shuttered lid' yeeeeouch. 'electric sweet still sighing, sensed, scented on memory's nightblue fingers' an alliteration like velvet brushed by the rough seduction of those nightblue fingers, a perfect ending.

    Your poem is like watching a cloud to cloud lightening storm! By the way I get shocked a lot, there's a ton of static electricity in the dry mountain air. The worst is when I touch the pellet stove to avoid zapping the electronics. The things I do for love ;).

  8. Joy,
    A perfect narration of the flashes of lightning which most would miss. They close their eyes or cower in one corner and cup their ears. They miss the spectacle which you so excellently described!


  9. Oh this gets me in my bony bones, absolute perfection. How adroitly you build up those pouffs and replace them with skinny lightning, and my goosebumps are happy for it. Who wants a castle, when you can have a fish hook? You convince me in just these few lines that: I do. Fine, fine poem, my friend!

  10. Magnificent contrast, first of al, between the poetics of storm-cloud and lightning: a wonderful distinction here with all the tropes ("skeletons of dragons" soared and seared for me): And asking which road gets closer to the heart of love, fructive rains or that matchstick of beginnings, you make a good case for the leap from one to other along that gradient of fire. - Brendan

  11. Thanks all. This one came running out of the pen(unusually--not the keyboard) during a rather splendiferous lightning storm we had a few nights ago. I had to come in because the paper got wet.

    @brian: that's called metaphor. ;_)

    @FB I swear I saw a whole herring skeleton too-like a cartoon x-ray.

    @twm: Exactly--even if your hands get blistered.

    @Anna: That is indeed, the ultimate sacrifice for the devices you love and nurture. Thanks for your continuous enthusiasm and support, (and that railroad car.)

    @Ruth: The bones know. Thanks for letting your imagination work the storm with me.

    @B:Thanks for reading--the new dragon is bony at times but hopefully always flying on that gradient of fire.

  12. the final verse took my breath away, Joy! ♥


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

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