Our Lady of the Sea Shore,
The pockets of your blue linen smock stuffed with dawn clouds,
Intercede for me,
I beg you.
My nights have become unpretty, pungent, abrasive,
Like tar roofs,
Patched and leaning,
Unable to hold the rain.
St. Creola, patroness of all that is lovely and ambiguous,
I cannot decide
Between My Love in the morning, her skin warm as east-facing Italian stucco,
Or My Love in evening, wearing moonstone earrings and making a bird perch from sea ripples and snakeskin.
She is the bootleg water-dove,
The posey nightcatcher.
I am the indigo bloom, and your adherent.
St. Creola, hear me.
The stars turn at your command,
The skies open at your pleasure;
Let there be a rain of cormorants, sapphires, silver dust...
Let there be your own jasmine scent in her dark hair;
Let there be bells,
And within their ringing or their silence,
Her answer.
_______
linked to dverse OLN #33
It's nice to see St. Creola appear again. Methinks there's something/someone behind this persona. Here's hoping for more of an elaboration one day!
ReplyDeletemay she hear your plea...i am kinda torn between love at night and in the morning...the morning is a little more honest for me you know...smiles.
ReplyDeleteLovely and ambiguous?
ReplyDeleteI TOLD you never to write about ME!
Aloha from Honolulu
Comfort Spiral
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There is only one word for this--lavish.It drips lavishness down the page in every lucent adjective. Insane, love beyond feeling no pain,each word a pearl strung on a string of clear passion, and it cuts to a devastating close that is like bells ringing by starlight.
ReplyDelete*throws keyboard into bathtub*
I love this, its format (a prayer), the images of the night ... the sense of conflict ... the pleading -- Fantastic!
ReplyDeleteThe whole piece--beautiful--but I am especially drawn to the third stanza along with the last three lines.
ReplyDeleteLike Hedgewitch, I threw my keyboard into the bathtub.
That's gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteYou know that I have made St. Creola my patron saint, don't you? And considering I'm Jewish, that's really saying something!
ReplyDeleteLove in the morning or Love in the evening? I say...BOTH!
"Let there be a rain of cormorants" make sure you have an umbrella ..
ReplyDeleteA prayer to St Creola must certainly be granted. I love every shred of magical realism that makes me see the world from a new and improved angle, if only for awhile.
ReplyDelete.. just returned from lighting a few candles ~ well deserved!
ReplyDeleteOne of your best, kiddo. Such unimaginably beautiful turns of phrase. The dawn clouds, the east facing Italian stucco, the bootleg water-dove, the indigo bloom.
ReplyDeleteWow. I feel like I have just been at a feast.
So many beautiful images to get lost in and I did for a while... but definitely mornings.
ReplyDeleteThis feels so lush and open to me--Beautifully written --and I hope you get your answer.
ReplyDeletenot v often i do this but i disagree with hedgewitch...
ReplyDeleteabundant,magnificent... hang on: shes right lavish is as lavish does... how about cool too :)
Our Lady of Tides is always answering our prayers. The trick lies in deciphering the wettest language of the heart. And of which is the greater half of heart, anyway? Thanks for letting us listen in on the intercession. Gorgeous stuff. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteLOVE! LOVE! LOVE! All the live long day! Whoever, where ever, when ever. All we are is love...Everything else just serves to remind us of that. A beautiful write/prayer...but this goddess says go for broke and go for both ;)
ReplyDeleteThis is beyond incredible. Lavish, but darker and sweeter. Like the smell of warm dirt after rain . . . or something poetic like that.
ReplyDeleteLove this... It is gorgeous !
ReplyDeleteMay you get an answer to this beautiful prayer :)
ReplyDeletebreathtaking beauty...still when I saw the name st creola, I couldn't help but imagine you sitting with a box of colorful wax crayons writing each line in a different hue:-)
ReplyDeleteI love this. Hope your prayer is answered. I'm going to have to start praying to this saint too.
ReplyDeleteI have to tell you something funny. I wasn't sure if St Creola was a real saint or not. So, I Googled it. The first thing Google showed was a link back to this post. LOL
ReplyDeleteI guess I got my answer, right?
Okay, this was great. My favorite line was, "The pockets of your blue linen smock stuffed with dawn clouds,"
Man, I want to write lines like this. I'm a fiction writer who wants to be a poet, like you:~) Such is life!
Beautiful. I, too, love "The pockets of your blue linen smock stuffed with dawn clouds."
ReplyDeletePat
Critter Alley
{{{cursing worse than a sailor as i trudge off to Hedgewitch's, make sure her keyboard is plugged into a power socket then fall into the tub with it.......zzzzzzzzzap
ReplyDeleteHoly Henry Miller! I adore this piece: from its narrator torn between two desires, to it's magical/sensual imagery (tar roofs even). You done well, grrl!
ReplyDelete