Monday, June 15, 2020

Earthsong





Earthsong

A triolet on the death of
Chantel Moore






The Mother has come to cover her bones
and Owl to call when the wind blows stars.
White fire, black blood, grey plague of stones;
flowers grow colors over her own.

Drums make a heart, peace makes a throne;
burn for her now and melt the scars.
Flowers will know to cover her bones.
Owl flies tonight to the wind-blown stars.





June 2020















posted for earthweal's








Apologies to those with certain newer word press sites. Their handling of spam puts my comments in the spam folder. I have commented on everyone's poem at this prompt, so if you don't see me, check there. I keep waiting for this problem to be resolved but it seems like it never will be. Again, sorry.





owl and moon by A.Perry



Process note: The owl is a potent symbol in many Native American cultures, including:
  •  "Ojibwe tribes, as well as their Aboriginal Canadian counterparts, used an owl as a symbol for both evil and death. In addition, they used owls as a symbol of very high..[spirituality in their spiritual]..leaders..
  • Pawnee tribes viewed owls as the symbol of protection from any danger within their realms.
  • Pueblo people associated owls with Skeleton Man, the god of death and spirit of fertility.
  • Yakama tribes use an owl as a powerful totem, often to guide where and how forests and natural resources..[can be used]with management...."  ~wikipedia





Images: Borage, Crocus, © joyannjones





14 comments:

  1. What a glorious song this is, Joy! I love" Drums make a heart, peace makes a throne". Lovely to read a poem full of owls. This is just gorgeous. Thank you so much for linking at earthweal. This particular post means so much to me, since the event hit so close to home. I especially love "Owl flies tonight to the wind-blown stars." Wow.

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  2. I especially love your two closing lines, implying a return to a natural state in a holy or at least natural way and not a grisly one. What's grisly is the shocking institutional racism that has been laid bare in recent years. One hopes that the natural order of things offers peace where life among uniformed hoo-mons did not. :-(

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  3. This sings, Joy. a skillful eulogy. JIM

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  4. What a beautiful triolet. Sometimes they sound a little forced, but this flows beautifully, heavy with sorrow.

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    1. sarah, thank you. I am so sorry, but along with several wordpress sites, yours will not accept my comments--you may find it in the spam folder, but I also copied it before posting and losing it: "Gorgeous imagery, and full of a resounding compassion, yearning, valuing that together are a part of what makes up love. I especially like the last four stanzas, which build with a heartbeat rhythm and gently but surely give us the gift of the poem's beauty."

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  5. A gorgeous, lilting song with a catchy rhyme scheme. I love poems with owls, and the way you played with ’wind blows stars’ and ‘wind-blown stars’.

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  6. This is so beautiful. What a lovely song for Mother Earth. I wish I could hear you sing it.

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  7. Such a heavy bittersweet sigh here and a potent wreath of flowers for one who could not avoid the fate of "white fire, black blood, grey plague of stones." May the flowers riot rainbows and the Owl make fertile her death with ... something. Thanks Hedge, beautiful poem. - Brendan

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  8. The end words are loaded, they make a song on their own. I would sing your poem in the key of dirge, softly.

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  9. This has a gentle rhythm that echoes the circle of life.

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  10. Terrific opening lines too!

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  11. I enjoyed your song - Owls are nocturnal and it is fitting that they fly to the wind blown stars. When, I have an encounter with an owl, I pay attention to my surroundings from all angles.

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  12. sorry it's been a while since visiting...
    listening to Pink Floyd, and it fits somehow.

    you, writing form? supple and graceful, I didn't even realize until looking at comments and tags.

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    1. Thanks so much. I still do (write form) sometimes.Other times I make up my own. ;_) The prompt was for a song,and form helps with that. No worries about visiting, ever, M. Life is a carnival (the Band) on the dark side of the moon, these days.

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