The Choice
Will you come
to me from
the vault of Echo,
even whose music is a rattle
of nonsense, or from
the folded hills of Titans' silence,
the folded hills of Titans' silence,
where the field is taken by
a random coup of indiscriminate stars
and night rides naked, protected
by her black birds?
~November 2015
posted for real toads
Images:
Top: Night, 1917, by Albert Bloch, Fair use via wikiart.org
Footer: Night, 1880, by Gustave Moreau, Public domain via wikart.org
Oooh! I love how you have phrased this all as a single question. It lends a mystery to the description, which is enhanced by your wonderful choice of art. Each line of the poem is its own work of art.
ReplyDeleteThank you Kerry. I find using visual art to be one of the more fun aspects of blogging poetry, as well as very often productive for me.
DeleteEnchanting! :-)
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
whose music is a rattle of nonsense... such a vivid image!
ReplyDeleteGreat ending Joy! The stars can really make a difference
ReplyDeleteHank
Tis up to the beholder to choose. Or the beholder's muse. Believers in poetry suffer some of the cold wind that blows through the hollowing church.
ReplyDeleteIt's an ill wind that blows no good, though. Thanks, B.
DeleteA really beautiful poem, Hedge--as Kerry says, all the lines are wonderful--there is a feeling, quite wonderful, as well of the youthfulness (banked, but kind of gone) with echo--the rattle both the noise of something in that vault, but also a childishness--and the age of the Titans--those big adult figures, kind of wrinkled up and entombed--night riding above it all-- I also love that the stars are indiscriminate, making no choice--k.
ReplyDeleteYes, that word felt awkward, but was the best of a lot of bad choices. I also pondered on 'attack' which was my first thought, over 'coup' but the poem is so short, I thought it could support one long and rather convoluted phrase. ;_) Thanks, k.
DeleteEchoes and naked night riding, lonely and lovely!
ReplyDeleteHugin and Munin, I presume? This is a weird, arresting ride through a dreamscape. I made sure I had the lap bar firmly locked in place.
ReplyDeleteI would say yes, the muse is so much easier to find in darkness, is it the faint fluorescence that's get eaten by daylight? Love the single question that force me to answer and the roll of the lines...
ReplyDeleteI would! I would! I would!
ReplyDeleteLove the structure, the description of the subject, the abstract uncanny setting... There is a sense of welcome in this question... a tone of surety that loads the inquiry with unsaid words that promise protection... and if the latter is not possible, at least companionship for as long as the living last.
LOVE! ♥ (you can tell just how much by my overuse of exclamation points *cough*)
Thanks, Magaly. And in your case, there can be no such thing as an *overuse* of anything. ;_)
Delete"and night rides naked, protected/by her black birds?": Love this image. Beautifully penned. :-)
ReplyDelete-HA
Ahhhh! (From the silence, I trust.)
ReplyDeleteI think my muse chooses either or every time she arrives. Such a beautiful poem..love the ending
ReplyDeleteI love the phrasing here--the sense of magic in your question--in all the real ways that we seek --beautiful write
ReplyDeleteOh, this is stunning.
ReplyDeletean elegant landscape you let us visit, sere and pitiless. Between Echo and folded ... Titans (making me envision Atlas). ~
ReplyDelete