There were devils
present at my birth
and veiled angels
in smoky violet shirts
with handbells
they'd stolen out of Hell.
Who is the coward
that devils teach to curse
holding Hope out in a teacup
but overturn it first?
A fool's sun
wanes fast, warms none.
See the rose stem
my assassin's throat was vase for
so that every imprecation
that's spoken only makes more
melodies
across my garden's leaves.
Angels kept my heart
in a box with golden hinges
carried by a devil
on its back with burning cinches
in tandem served--
my hidden heart preserved.
_______
for Word Garden Word List--Stephen Crane
Music: Beth Hart & Joe Bonamassa "I'll Take Care of You"
The overturned teacup, the assassin's throat as vase - such powerful imagery, as only you can do. I love "Angels kept my heart in a box with golden hinges" and that they kept it safe against all the dark forces.
ReplyDeleteSo much to love in this poem. You are a storyteller that always captivates me. Love these lines "See the rose stem my assassin's throat was vase for so that every imprecation that's spoken only makes more melodies across my garden's leaves."
ReplyDeleteSomehow I could hear Stevie Nicks singing this "Nursery Rhyme." There is a quality of lyricism here blending the metaphors of innocence lost and yet preserved that makes it linger in my mind, or the tip of my tongue, long after the last syllables fade. Horror and cruelty, beauty and melody, coexisting, wrought in the fire of your creativity into exquisite poetry, Shay. Keep singing, my friend, for us all.
ReplyDeleteEvery stanza here is a golden box in itself, separate but connected like a caravan of camels on the Silk Road, traveling loaded with a wealth of image and language, to be impatiently opened so we can run our hands through its glittering words. There is that specific Gemini duality that mysteriously makes a whole in every beat, every visual a cue to deeper and more cutting truths. I especially love the tags, and how you gave us the real feel of Crane without in any way seeming derivative. A great challenge, and a response that stands both of and above it.
ReplyDeleteWhat HW said. And just can't get enough of "handbells / they'd stolen out of Hell." Amazing every line.
ReplyDeleteI love how the title sets off the gothica in the poem. And then the whole thing is a visual feast, but that 4th stanza is my favourite, how the thwarted curses only make melodies across the garden's leaves - stunning! <3
ReplyDelete