Sunday, July 20, 2014

This Poem Is the War Bird, the Cat, and Ashes

This poem is the war bird, tethered.
This poem is the cat, crouched, waiting.
This poem is ashes, flame's dark warmthless daughters.

Once-soft Goddesses wearing gauntlets
hurry new dawns into a red sky unready;
The bones of songbirds make trinket jewelry
for these light-drunk chippies, unsteady.
It is not the war bird who is tethered to these dime store deities--
they desperately tether their silly selves to him,
his talons,
his keen eye,
asking him in a rush, blathering,
to tell them of rising, of honest blood, of sky.

Quiet becomes rare currency
in a plaza sick with ambrosia barkers.
Weaving between pillars and the busts of noble dead,
comes a common cat, traversing the markers.
It is not the feline who lives at the edges and margins,
but the noisome voided screechers calling themselves master--
vomiting,
wearing bibs,
insensible to the common cat, crouching,
stalking the dull bird under their ribs.

Here is what we did and what we were,
here and here and here. Weep for the beauty of it,
write poems and songs and marble art,
to present to these defectives--our citizens--steeped in shit.
Everything skips a generation, so the wise ones have said,
before we cored them and tore out their tongues,
all the while
pasting on a laurel wreath.
See our favored girls, pampered and scornful,
smiling ice from rot-sweet teeth.

This poem is the war bird, tethered.
This poem is the cat, crouched, waiting.
This poem is ashes, flame's dark warmthless daughters.
_________

for Hannah's mini-challenge, "boomerang metaphors".

 
 

14 comments:

hedgewitch said...

Just superb writing Shay. This form has not grabbed me, but you do it proud--really, make it seem as if there is no form involved at all, which is the true test of a form poem. It is scathing, lyric, damning and no matter how much one wants to look away from the truth of it, its fingers hold one's head and make one watch.

Sioux said...

This poem knocks me out (as most of your poems do). Too many lines to cut and paste in here, but one I especially like is "before we cored them and tore out their tongues."

Wow.

Drool.

Kerry O'Connor said...

This form or poetic approach seems ideal for your style of writing. Great progression and excellent choice of visual and musical accompaniment.

Cloudia said...

Ambrosia Barkers!

I love playing in your mind




ALOHA from Honolulu
ComfortSpiral
=^..^= <3

Arushi Ahuja said...

Ah! Heres a dark one... lovely use of form.. the picture goes so well with it!!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

OH! MY! GOD! Shay wrote a boomerang metaphor poem. I read it with lascivious delight. Then thought to myself "now I will never be able to write another one." Holy crap, what a poem!

Hannah said...

For me, your content feels multi-layered, rich and balanced with meaning and imagery...skillfully expressed.

It's interesting that this poetic style can take so many different shapes in the hands of each writer. I think, you show that the form can be followed quite loosely and still have a similar effect.

Thanks for writing to my challenge, Shay.

Rene Foran said...

So much fun! This was a blast to read

Lolamouse said...

You nailed this form which I found very difficult!

Sumana Roy said...

totally blown away...

Susie Clevenger said...

Speechless! I knew you would rock the form..

myinnerchick.com said...

**See our favored girls, pampered and scornful,
smiling ice from rot-sweet teeth.**

LOVE))!! xx

Mama Zen said...

I want that closing line for my very own.

Sara said...

Wow. I appreciate this poem all the more from reading Hannah's mini-challenge. OMG that's not easy to do! You did a great job with this and this line is such a powerful use of words:

"This poem is ashes, flame's dark warmthless daughters."

I loved the entire poem, but I could read this line again and again!