Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Flambeau

 

 



 
 
 
 
 
Flambeau
(a quadrille)
 
 
I don't want to write poems
fiddle while Rome's monde nouveau
becomes a flambeau.
They're a medicine-show elixir
a too-loose wrapping
on a fountaining vein.
 
But I have nothing else
as Arcadia burns
but this glittering salt
to seed rain
on a grassfire wind.
 
 
 July 2022
 
 
 
 
 
 
 



 
posted for earthweal's
 
 
 
and
 
 
 
dVerse Poets
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Arcadia is a region in Greece, historically designated as the home of the god Pan, and synonymous with an unspoiled, pastoral wilderness. (Many towns across the world have been named after this spot, usually--tho not intentionally--ironically. I live not far from Arcadia, Oklahoma, a self-conscious tourist trap on Route 66 near an eponymous manmade lake. So far, it has not burned down.)
 
 
 
Images: Torch, 2008, © Wu Guanzhong    Fair Use
Media photo of grassfire, Beaver County, Oklahoma 2022   via internet  Fair Use
 

14 comments:

  1. Oh, Joy, sweltering in the heartland, this poem hits the heart, especially the second stanza. "This glittering salt", and "a grassfire wind" - such a beautiful description, in the starkness of the earth burning itself up.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you dear Sherry. Sadly I know you see it too; it's not just here, but everywhere.

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  2. Our western provinces are battling fires as well and here in southwestern Ontario, we've had extreme heat warnings for days/weeks. It does feel like a helpless situation.

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  3. Glittering salt - that's the evaporate to foment rain at last. Here's ghostly glimmers in lieu of the rain chants we forgot. Dirty speech perhaps but what else arewegonnado.. "Grassfire wind" ain't no Arcadian rock n roll show. And St. Louis gets 8 inches of rain in a day.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, B. Sometimes I feel even my tears must dry up into granules--if only I could make the use of them I suggest here.

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  4. I find poetry is one of the things that always brings me solace in the darkest times. Rest assured, you do not write in vain!

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    1. Thank you, Ingrid. Nor you. Yours was a strong indictment of all that is wrong with this moment in time, but you managed to do without preach or self-righteousness.

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  5. it's the hunt for those damnable elixirs that doom us all - how they mingle and burst out into unknowable often toxic new admixtures. what kind of rain are we seeding?

    as always, you craft each word with purpose and elegance ~

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    Replies
    1. The quadrille is kind of a cousin of the 55, but it has fewer beads to string. I'll never be as good with these short forms as you, tho, M.

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    2. you are far too humble and kind. my scribblings don't hold a flambeau, er, candle, to yours. but thank you ~

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  6. The world is burning, and sometimes all one can do is offer the "glittering salt." Beautiful descriptions here.
    There's also a Tom Stoppard play titled "Arcadia."

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  7. "They're a medicine-show elixir
    a too-loose wrapping
    on a fountaining vein."
    Now there's a good enough reason to keep fiddling, despite the fires outside, if the product is language like the above. Definition is always a starting point...JIM

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    Replies
    1. Tbanks Jim. Coming from you that means a lot.

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  8. Yours is no mere fiddle, Joy. It's much too elegant....
    Perhaps a Vieuxtemps Guarneri Violin

    Much love,
    David [ben Alexander]
    http://skepticskaddish.com/

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