Saturday, December 19, 2020

Snow Blind

 

 


 

 "If it's peace you find in dying, when dying time is here,
just bundle up my coffin cause it's cold way down there,
I hear that's it's cold way down there, yeah, crazy cold way down there.."
~Laura Nyro, When I Die
 
 
Snow Blind
 
I sit remembering
when we were dragons,
our mating flight in October's
bloodbright sky, 
another country
that rush of scales and fire.
 
Or when you saw me first,
moth with green-eyed wings
on a factory rafter. You knew
 among the nymphs
I was a spriggan

twisted wry but quick and hot,
that on the mountain with the goats
I climbed the highest
to be alone, krampus-girl
too full to eat the darkness.
 
So come, wind of the north.
Blow this west-wind fever from me
with your ice-eyes and cheap bargains.
Mound the cold grey snow
upon this bed, shabby
goblin sheets to numb my sores,
 
rime my lids 
 snow blind, give me
shadow glow, hallucinations, lunatic
visions, his
living face candle-lit,
smiling

at me:
the glass dragon,
the dust-moth dry with
death's-head wings,
broken as easily 
as a candy heart.
 
 

December 2020











 
 
 
posted for Fireblossom
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Spriggan: "a legendary creature from Cornish faery lore...said to be found at old ruins, cairns, and barrows guarding buried treasure. Although small, they were usually considered to be the ghosts of giants..notorious for their unpleasant dispositions...~wikipedia
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: photo of Laura Nyro via internet   Fair Use
Moth Wing © Amelia Fletcher    Fair Use
 
 

12 comments:

  1. I love the commands and dare that speak out in the magical poem Joy! They speak a strength in the fighting and letting go. And the last stanza with "broken as easily as a candy heart"....magnificent!

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  2. This leaps right at heart and throat.

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  3. I agree with Chrissa, this just INSISTS. That second stanza blew me away...how did you come up with the factory rafter? What an image. And the recognition as a spriggan. Damn I love that. Our two poems seem to spring from a common font. We used entirely different scenes and words to describe the same season of the heart. However, yours take a well-deserved swipe or two at Xmess season and manages to make it fit right in with the poem as a whole.Well, I could go on and on, stanza by stanza, but you already know what you so skillfully put down in words. You have the courage of your own heart, my BFF. That's a rare thing.

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  4. A brilliant write, Joy, that left me breathless and admiring. Too many beauties to list, but i loved best, "so come, Wind of the North."

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  5. I found myself drawn into each line of this breathless poem. Paced like a roller coaster ride to the mountain and back, lit with fire and wonderment. The spriggan adds
    a mystical touch. A captivating write.

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  6. Your poetry is a gift ... wrapped in Joy-full wonder.

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  7. Mound the cold grey snow
    upon this bed, shabby
    goblin sheets to numb my sores

    A pleading made realistically insisting and hardened by the great lines of your write, Joy. Makes one sitting on edge reading it.

    Hank

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  8. +100 with Hank. Those lines land cold, with no way past them after the heat and light. I love that it ends as a fragile, glass dragon. A tree ornament, death glinting in the blinking candy colored lights.

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  9. fantastic.

    only you're no ghost of a giant... or if you are, you have one helluva booming voice, still. as far as disposition, I couldn't say. still a giant, though, at least in poetic voice. ~

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  10. Oh, you always bring such brilliant writing. I was caught from the first line. There are too many favorites for me to copy and paste. This is one I will read and reread.

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  11. A stunner, Joy!

    "too full to eat the darkness"

    "rime my lids
    snow blind, give me
    shadow glow, hallucinations, lunatic
    visions, his
    living face candle-lit,
    smiling"

    Outstanding.

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  12. Strong piece Hedgewitch. Magical! Well written you spriggan you. I am listening to Laura’s album “Angle In The Dark” as I write this. Damn she was so good. Left us way too soon!

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