i
stained glass wings rest
light against the dull gray
tinge of stainless steel
compound eyes study a world
more strange and alien
than their wide and varied view
giant beetles rush colors past
sometimes disgorging unwieldy
young from beneath heavy wings
great square hives rise up
full of eyes that glint back bits
of amber pearl and turquoise
creatures half concealed by
cocoon remains rush about
scratching out bits of song
small metal trees grow barely
a few flat leaves which never
bend to the touch of wind
there is no need for thought
for there is nothing to understand
here of this dim new dreaming
ii
curious eyes reach out and
touch ever so slightly front-
most legs with invitation
one rises up to ponder-feel
the alien appendage almost
lost in reflections of meaning
then all at once tear-drop
wings climb up light tan skin
and over thin brown hairs
one walks the other rides
before the floating scrutiny of
a large peculiar gaze
overhead floats a sidewalk
canopy of maples deep green
firs and old black oaks
sign posts and street lamps fade
behind a backyard gate that leads
into a garden where the sound
of city streets is hardly heard
among the many hues of spring
that climb and blossom toward the sun
and here against a beechwood branch
living wings are gently placed
returned to sapwood realms of dream
In a list
Thoughts, Feelings, Interpretations, Experience:
Comments
1 - 41 of 41
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wow
i love this it is very well written great peace ur a great poet
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interesting poem, i love the way the words are beautifully put together,
nice job -
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Thanks. It was a fun poem to write.
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Though it starts as some thing childish, simplistc yet meaningful it gains depth, suddenly finding your self in another one of your master peices where 'curious eyes reach out and
touch ever so slightly front' just to warn you that it gets better, leaving you breath taken by the end. Now perhaps it's because english is my fith language that i fail to understand your title but no doubt it is most effective to those who do uderstand. Your are a truely stunning and breath taking poet i would yern to write as you do.
Yours faithfully,
Gorcki.
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This is among my most experimental writes. I attempted to capture the world from the eyes (and "perspective") of the cicada, at least the one I found on a sign post ("small metal trees ...") downtown where I lived. I let it climb onto my hand, and then gave it a ride as I walked home to where there was a good deal more green for it to get lost among. As we walked I tried to imagine the world from its point of view, and from that this poem arose.
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=) This is really good, eveyone can interprit their own meaning to this poem, good work.
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Which is exactly one of the goals of a poem like this. If you like reader-interpretability, then you will probably like an older post of mine titled "Sakura". You'll find it in my list of trisects. In fact, all my trisects are reader interpretive.
Thanks for reading and sharing your reaction with me.
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Makes me think of summers at my grandparents' farm when I was a kid. Cicada's always seemed to magical.
"creatures half concealed by
cocoon remains rush about
scratching out bits of song" - made me think of people hiding who they really are behind masks of who they think people want them to be. -
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I like your interpretation of the stanza you've pointed out.
Yes cicadas are unusual beings. It's hard not to appreciate them.
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Reminded me of Costa Rica, when I saw a Cicada larger than my foot.
I love the images of their eyes looking out into the world. I can feel the sense of excitement they must feel.
Awesome poem! -
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Good thing they're leaf eaters then, hmm?
I think all beings are trapped in dream, including us humans. One job of my poetry is to try to illustrate this, and bring the reader to reflect on the "reality" of this dream. Not what it means, but what it is--what it is. The dreams of humans are interspersed with the dreams of all other beings, here and anywhere they might manifest. Such was the exercise of this write. I'm glad you were able to appreciate it!
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Sir, please back away from the mescaline...
lol
Very vivid. I would give my left arm to be able to keep cadence and thought flow going like this.
I could see it perfectly in the eyes of my mind.
One of my favorite things to imagine is giant beetles in a valley getting fried by ball lightning.
17 year cicadas are fun to meditate on as well.
Excellent.
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Ah yes this was an exercise. I tried to write the poem as if viewed from the eye of the cicada. But more, the human mind within the cicada experience. Think clairvoyance. But in dream--where the human experience might be half forgotten during the clairvoyant experience.
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That is exactly what I thought... I thought my mescaline reference covered that.
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hallucinating !
I was competely absorbed into the mystic realm of these strange enchanting creature and transposed gently into the peaceful familiar setting of a warm summer evening!
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There does seem to be something mysterious about them doesn't there. Glad you enjoyed this.
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awesome
man what a great read i just wish there was more to it but in the beginning it talks about a metal tree i don't know what you are talking about right there please explain -
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Well the metal tree was a sign post. Trying to portray the world from the point of view of the bug. It still ends up being from the point of view of a person, but at least a person trying to see the world as a bug might see it.
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Cicadas are interesting creatures. I love their shrill noise here in the desert...for the first 5 minutes, but if there are multiple cicadas the sound can be deafening (sp?).
I can see this is an experimental poem. I am not in love with the work. To me it reads more as prose than as poetry. I could see this work translating into a short story. Barbara Kingsolver does some lovely descriptions of nature in many of her essays & novels. In her book, "Prodigal Summer," she discusses Atlas moths. These moths do not have mouths to feed. Therefore, there whole purpose is to mate, (if one is female) lay eggs & then die.
My two favorite stanzas are:
sign posts and street lamps fade
behind a backyard gate that leads
into a garden where the sound
of city streets is hardly heard
among the many hues of spring
that climb and blossom toward the sun
I love the concept of the joint human/cicada perspective. Coupled with the first stanza, I see these lines being potentially the best way to nurture another work (poem, story or otherwise) stemming from this piece.
Thank you.
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Hmm that prose/poem line is a difficult line to draw. Me I think this qualifies as a poem more so than prose because there is a distinct structure to it, and the language is very much "heightened", as the academics like to put it. But, oh yah, it's also extremely experimental.
Glad you were able to enjoy this effort at least partially.
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yes
for me I saw the cicada dance her mystic dance dropping the fans of her wings
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Cicadas are certainly interesting little creatures. I think they're from another solar system. Probably a planet in orbit around a dim near red dwarf, where life has had an opportunity to evolve in stable orbit for billions years longer than earth.
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Interesting concept. You paid great attention to detail, so imagery is very strong in this piece. I enjoyed the read.
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Glad you enjoyed. Yes this was fun to write, experimental though it was.
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Great!!!
I love it! Bugs are awesome!!!
Very detailed!!!
Keep writing!
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This was a very experimental write. Glad you enjoyed it!
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I like this alot, even though i got lost a little in it but i like the way it flows. You did an amazing job.
"there is no need for thought
for there is nothing to understand
here of this dim new dreaming"
These are my favorite lines and they end the poem well.
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When you say you got lost, I'm curious how you experienced this getting lost. Where in the poem? Which phrases? Was it a difficulty in visualizing the imagery? Or something else? Curious curious curious. Do tell.
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Wow. This is a pretty cool little poem that you have going on here. I thought that it was pretty neat that it was about bugs. You don't see a whole lot of poems that are entirely about them but I think they're really neat. I liked your format too. All in all I thought you did a great job of expressing yourself.
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Ya I remember being pretty happy about this write. I'm glad you found yourself enjoying it as a reader, and that you were able to grasp the gist of it. Yay!
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I found the first section to move on uncomfortably quickly from each small stanza to the next, but this is probably just my interpretation and reading. The second section flowed beautifully with really intense imagery, it was really visual and I loved the feeling the poem gives of a small haven within a city, that is both a beautiful retreat and a reminder of the ancient forests that preceded the cities of today that have been lost and forgotten by the majority of their bustling populations. You are a very talented poet to convey such complex messages without actually saying them.
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The first segment tries to describe a downtown area from the perspective of a cicada. Of course, not easily done. So it becomes pure metaphor, everything considered in terms of insects and the insect world.
The second segment attempts to combine human and cicada views of the world as they walk together, trying to stay mostly on perspective of the cicada. Of course, cicadas don't read poetry, that we know of, and if they do it's almost certainly not in English.
But the exercise was fun, and helped me find ways of describing things I hadn't yet approached.
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This is really good. I like how you took us from a small perspective and then:
"overhead floats a sidewalk
canopy of maples deep green
firs and old black oaks"
zoom we are thrust into the larger picture. you did this nicely. great write. -
this was a very interesting poem. thank u for writing it.
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Ohhhhhhh. Erin. I love this. I see every little detail and the alliteration is wonderful.
The excellence comes through when the form melts into the simplicity of the reader's comprehension.
I see the free verse has done some sharp turns for you.
I need to re-read due to its differentiation from symmetrical to asymmetrical. I'll be back to suggest or comprehend.
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So I have not been on in awhile and it looks as if I have some catching up to do. Here in this write I find the contrast between what people assume is nature and your perspective on the subject at hand delightful. It takes a gifted poet to help people see that behind all the cement and asphalt in regards to life in the city that there is still nature all around. I believe that is something that we do not see in everyday life and if someone is lucky enough to be able to see beyond that "city" element, most take it for granted. This is one of your better writes in my opinion!
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You provide here a very childlike picture of the city in the eyes of a cicada, and how a beautiful awakening unfolds as it goes back to the woods. I really like the playfulness of this piece, it feels like I'm watching a well-produced (and well-meaning) animation. It's beautiful . And you--rare.
It takes gifted eyes and pure heart to see the beauty in small things, especially those that many would find hard to adore or even just notice. And it takes a really brave and well-meaning poet to give attention to the often forgotten, mostly unnoticed deeper beauties of nature.
Don't run out of this, please.
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I love nature poetry. Gonna add you to my favs and watch you with interest.
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2 cents
Can I take issue with the following stanza?
compound eyes study a world
more strange and alien
than their wide and varied view
Why should the world which it is native to be alien to it?
The format seems long and drawn out to me, perhaps you could consolidate its structure, as I like the verse.
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Well, I didn't see it as being native to the concrete and asphalt of my downtown area. All the descriptions are descriptions of city stuff and people therein--but metaphorized.
Yea maybe it's drawn out. Seems to be a tendency I've developed lately...
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Bugs!
I suppose I need to hold a certain respect for people who are into bugs because I know I could never find myself into such hobbies..lol On the other hand the poem's imagery is to be admired more and your bug loving...
"there is no need for thought
for there is nothing to understand
here of this dim new dreaming"
wonderful..
"of city streets is hardly heard
among the many hues of spring
that climb and blossom toward the sun"
The last line of this one is my favorite..
Great dudeman!
Kay Laon Anders
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