The devout go to graveyards, too.
numbered from the day we are born;
winter-bearers disguised in gentian blue.
Every cat knows the yarn ball has its end.
stitched into a world of glorious patterns
comprised of flesh, genomes, accident, atoms.
I am the baby playing in the April clover
riding inside the disappearing bone-brittle
biddy, herself a rider who with Charon must settle.
In between I live my dream within a dream
within a buzzing hive of urgent ephemeral illusion,
a corporeal toy. an aspect of God, in a barrel on a waterfall stream.
___________________
for Word Garden Word List--A.E.Stallings
Intense, with the imagery in the third stanza especially "bone-brittle" with innocence and impending judgment. The confluence of images, graveyards, genomes, April clover, and "buzzing hive of illusion" -- the poem itself a waterfall of thought -- washes over us as if in baptism. Surreal. Love it. Shay.
ReplyDeleteWhat a magnificent poem - I love the imagery and thoughtfulness - I especially like the image of being the baby playing in the April clover. Wonderful poem - Jae
ReplyDeleteI love the baby in the clover inside "the bone-brittle biddy", and the cat who knows the yarn has an end. Gah, I pictured the ferryman, me stepping into the boat.
ReplyDeleteExcellent imagery and subtle use of rhyme, Shay. Your Stallings inspiration is well-displayed here. Enjoy that ball of yarn to the fullest while you can, so says the cat who lives with me.
ReplyDeleteGreat images and depth in this - very interesting and thought provoking
ReplyDeleteVery reminiscent of the featured poet, but frankly, much better. As always, you provide us with something meaty, something that goes deeper than form, and is more human, real and substantive. I especially like the final two stanzas.
ReplyDeleteWow Shay this is another one for a magnificent poetry collection! Life and the yarn all have that last strand of yarn don't they? Simply brilliant my friend!! I screwed up going through your blog and read this before even attempting to do the prompt, but who am I kidding I probably will fail at that. I guess time will tell on me either way.
ReplyDeleteI have read this 7 or 8 times now. At first I was distracted by the apparent change of topic with each new stanza. Graveyards, cat, child, dream. But the more I read it, the more I see the connections and revel in the imagery. Is it a particular form? There's a form (I can't think of the name atm) where you take a different image for each stanza and then tie them together a bit (not very obviously) in the last stanza. Your poem feels like one of those. I feel I ride with the narrator on a journey of discovery and with each stanza, the narrator is more and more present. I love the ending, most especially: "an aspect of God, in a barrel on a waterfall stream." Love that!
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