Saturday, July 30, 2022

Eyes Of A Sailor

 
 


 
 
 
Eyes Of A Sailor
(a 55)
 
 My eyes grow rheumy
swimming in moonblur
but witnessing still
light's cut, color's fill,
shadow's indigo blot.
Light the blade, color the cloth,
blue shadow stitching together what's lost.

Old cells' ramparts
falling unfixed; 
wind pulls their dust,
time washes waves
over mitochondrial graves,
but memory sails its unsinkable boat
holding afloat
my far-sighted ghost.
 
 

July 2022



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
posted for earthweal's
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Images: The Boatman, and Boat of the Mermaid, © Sabin Balasa  Fair Use

8 comments:

  1. blue shadow stitching together what's lost... love the imagery!

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  2. "Memory sails its unsinkable boat" is such a fantastic line! A wonderful write, Joy, as always.

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  3. My brother's C is making me far more aware of the body & its chugging cellular engines, how they work & what makes them fail. (New retirement hackles these thoughts too.) If poetry grants us a certain sight, aging obfuscates vision at one end while growing clarity to the everlivin' shade. The poetry lies in the transformation, while "time washes waves over mitochondrial graves," "blue shadow stitch(es) together what's lost." Ahoy Hamlet's Ghost. I absolutely loved the lilt of "light's cut, color's fill, / shadow's indigo blot." Darkening not. A fine fifty five Hedge.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, B. I know how bizarre and difficult this time must feel for you. Appreciate you taking the time and energy to give such valuable feedback.

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  4. echoing Rajani's favorite, and B's too. that you wove 'mitochondria' so effectively into a 55 blows my mind (I love scientific allusions).

    the end to each verse is so strong - the slant rhyme subtly reinforcing each. blue shadow - so not quite opaque, something of color and sight still there. a far-sighted ghost - again, the insubstantial is not really - having sight, and far sight is no mean feat even for the living, but for a shade (a shadow by another name) - shivers of spooky action at a distance for me.

    I think G-Man would have loved this one - the Hedgewitch conjuring up ghosts and shades ~

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    1. Thanks more than you lnow for this deeper look into the poem. So much of life these days feels lived in a void to me, and writing is my fumbling attempt at connection. It's great when it feels like it works. Thanks again, and sorry this langhished in comment limbo for so long.

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

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