Alphabattoir

[Sorry]

At dawn you’re gossamer treasure
freshly showered, dazzle on the dew.

By noon you're a threat, treacherous
the shrill whistle of a slow descent.

As nightfall breaks, again you change-
a well of oblivion beneath a blurred moon.

[Sorry]

String of thoughts collected on today's walk. It goes kinda (!) long... I got a li'l lost.
Sorry
_________________________________________________________
Imagica


Woodpeckers woke me at 4:45 this morning, yammer-stammer drill-bit
beaks blasting like jack-hammers on our metal roof. I tried shooting them
as proof- crept out in full mountain maiden regalia- pink boxers, anaconda
hat, a flurry falling out the back door, shutter cocked, eyes catching flickers,
quick glimpses in periphery, my bare feet meeting mud. They’ve come
three mornings in a row, rapping harsh Bolero beats, heaving my sons
who sleep beneath the eaves into the day defensive.

For the first time since perhaps October, we have brilliant, intermittent sun
and I am thawing at long last after a bitter northern winter- steady thermal
breeze is blowing in from somewhere south of here and warmth’s begun
to seep beneath my skin to feed my bones, illuminating every molecule
that makes me me. I’ve been waiting for what seems a very long time

now indeed -please forgive me if my words come in a rush or if I gush
the way the winter run-off does when sluicing through a sharp ravine-
it’s just my spirit’s full of gratitude, relief, imagination- it’s become
almost impossible, concealing my elation.

I’ve been playing in the woods- I took the dogs on my first journey,
brought them home, gave each a bone and attempted to escape alone.
No looking back, I just kept trucking past the budding lilac bush
and down the hill behind my house into the velvet forest, having
never quite adored those curtains anyway.

I wore my rubber boots, made sure my camera battery was charged,
and left my cigarettes at home- I seem to have more self-respect
somehow when everything around me is a testament to nature.
I brought my cell phone just in case, but I ignored it when it rang,
its piercing shrill so disrespectful blue jays ganged up, shouted
angry warnings on the broken still.

My neighbor makes me laugh; he asks which path I travel
when I wind up in his backyard by sheer luck and find him
working on his truck about to sample nature’s bounty. I tell
the truth- I take the route the shadows use to lead me
to the greatest views. I need to take a picture of the look
that leaps across his face each time my answer
makes its way into his consciousness.

I didn’t go that way today, instead I stayed a little west
and let the water lead me through a grove of ancient apple
trees and birch and beech to see their bud husks polka-dotting
leaves like monochrome confetti, sample one last taste
of maple sap before the canopy uncurls.

[BrianIsSmilingAtYou]

I'm liking the latest: Metamorphopsia is a spare look at bare nature, and Imagica is the opposite, an offering filled to overflowing.

I found the following interesting for the fact that there was a hidden iambic tetrameter rhyming couplet:

I take the route the shadows use
to lead me to the greatest views

The lines didn't break this way in the poem but I could still feel it. There were a lot of other things as well, maybe not as simple as this--strong descriptions and images leading to other things in the shadows.'


Glad to see you are still going strong.

BrianIs AtYou

[prokopton]

At dawn you’re gossamer treasure
freshly showered, dazzle on the dew.

By noon you're a threat, treacherous
the shrill whistle of a slow descent.

As nightfall breaks, again you change-
a well of oblivion beneath a blurred moon.

I love the word images you have conjured to accompany the picture.
Good job, great progress, I iz fallin' behind.


GeffÖ

[Sorry]

BrianIsAtYou: Hello. Thank you for smiling at me, and thank you for the kind encouragement and observations. I know Imagica is waay too faat and I need to slaughter some darlings- it's the longest poemsprout I've ever written, stream of consciousness after a long walk. I snipped all day after posting (sorry); it was fun to write, but maybe not-so-much to read 'til it loses a few more pounds.
Thanks for the sharp observations on the shadowy metrics, too. Enjoy the day!
Sorry

Howdy prokopton: Thanks for coming back again- happy you enjoyed
Metamorphopsia, I appreciate you sharing your time and kind words. And don't worry about falling behind, you can catch up, it's no big. If it's an inspiration thing, I'd suggest you put your rubber boots on and take a walk in the woods. Down the middle of a little stream if possible. With a good dog. Or not. That'll fix ya.

I should do the same, 'cause right now: I got nothin'.

Sorry

[Sorry]

Illegitimacy

My bed's become a little boat. I'm floating
through the ceiling, drifting in and out of
consciousness on pillow clouds, detached,
rivers trickling down my back, blistering
skin prickling with heat. Doctors recommend
suspensions, elixirs, pills, quick-fixes...
o they love to write prescriptions for shit
with little benefit beyond weight gain
of pharmacologists' wallets. The fix
is mentalistic. It's the system that's sick.

[GiantRumblebuffin]

I really loved your walking poem, you described everything with a fine, keen eye. And the coming of summer part was excellent. As a walk and weather-lover myself I found it an enjoyable read

[Chan]

Sorry,

Hi, coming after 'Gourmutt', musing about fluff: There’s / Fluff! How hungry are you? Will it be enough?

the impact of 'Anarhichas lupus' with all that RHS formatting is a right shocker.

Cheers,

[Sorella]

Sorry,
I read your Imagica with great pleasure -- just my kind of walk!
You had a strong NaPo ... gonna finish with a couple more, I am sure

Sorella