1.
Leaving port
our three masted ship wafts lullabies
and the corner carousel spins
to a perfect C ringing
like ribbons of cherub laughter.
The creek ice sits thin on top of things --
from underneath flocks of birds drunk
on sunlight leached from the pale sky
carol a song ---
the refrain buckles us
and this is not Then but happening;
where a lover becomes king of the world
and Jesus joins the picket lines
where mullato babies can't be sold
for money turned into white powder.
Lost and following frozen breadcrumbs
the woven cord scrapes our palms
while it unravels
2.
The masts fold slowly inward
the nightsongs unsing themselves --
form an unholy wrinkle
on the dome's smooth plane
and what is left stings
the eyes of the children left standing
on the reeded shore
their toes sunk in warm sand
where grass blades wet and bent
compete with twisted moonbeams
held in their small hands
for what is left of a distant reflection.
Mica flakes the air
and flower-juice stains their cheeks.
A white owl's low incantation
shakes the branches
awakening Mab
who runs her chariot
over drowsy heads
while Mercutio's' shadow dangles
from an unbreakable limb.
He's laughing at their lust
that Love
fractal
the flashing water
the ship's prow breaking forward--
in the headlands, laughter, a girl
presses her perfumed breast
to a hopeful boy's face --whispers
a wounding language
that dances along the edges
A contest entry
- Star Sailor - Come sail your ships around me by Suzanne Dia.
3000 points, ended March 11, 10 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
-
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and I am very happy to see it was recognized in gold. Your poetry is truly poetry...Love, Lane
-
Lisa
How about removing this line ...
like ribbons of cherub laughter.
Do you really need the numbers? I don't know, maybe I'm missing something. I see the poem in 5-7 line stanzas.
Cheers.
Hope all is well,
Maria -
the conflation of the umbilical at the end of the first section with the bow line of a masted ship above is a neat little tie off of imagery. the imperfect vessel leaving port, with it's unholy crease from the wind leaving the sails, and innocence behind in the sand are wonderful metaphorical pictures. something about that prow, too, pushing through the waters while the young explore their own undiscovered countries, the children's own small prows pushing into the soft sand, the hopeful boy's face to the perfumed breast. -s
-
-
you are a dream-fish Reader. xo
-
-
have headache. will return. please don't take down. por favor? tks. -slowfish
-
How can Suzi not love this? I wanted to enter something for this, but the bar has been raised
exceptionally high with this piece. Just excellent work.
-
I love it, and I adore you, but you ask for constructive criticism, so I'm going to have to do my old babble routine (much to my chagrin).
I love the opening stanza, and the movement is beautiful into "The creek ice..." which is such a painfully exquisite line I want to say nothing, but need to point out that as "creek" ice it shifts my frame of reference, immediately sensing a more playful and imaginary setting to this voyage. And if that is intended, then OK. And if that is due to my southern squeezing of creeks down to cricks, then that is OK too. I don't like how that gawdamm jesus sticks his coked up nose into things. sounds as if those mulatto kids are plucked from nyorlens to a maine port city of a poem, and i need to ask them if they're missing a mother. but and because then I'm back on course. The final couplet is as good as creek ice, though I stupidly ask (deferring to your nautical know how) if unravel is really the right word. It sounds so right that I feel indecent asking.
Particularly as it transitions so well into unsinging. and "sting" carries the exact balance of weight to "scrapes". As Lute notes, the lines on the children are fantastic. I can't speak authoritatively about Shakespeare, but Mercutio dangles just right for me. The capitalization of "Then" struck me as just right, while "Love" took me a moment to accept, but then I did. It is correct. I love the final stanza (of course, hell, I was there), but I wrestle with that absense of a period... sure, sure it's unresolved and ongoing, but those periods after reflection and cheeks create a certain bourgeois expectation in my drunken bones.
Lovely.
Brian
-
-
I had seen your name about and was quite jealous you hadn't visited me.
YAY criticism.
I am not quite sure I'm pleased with much of the first part, to be honest. This is an older poem that I resurrected and edited for the contest (and cause I had really thought I should re-look at this one). And the lines I'm not crazy about are those you point out. You know when I wrote it, I had just heard about a woman who sold her baby for crack -- and that sort of got stuck in there cause it struck me as so amazing. Letting this sit for a year and bringing it back up, I realize it doesn't quite fit.
The creek should be a bit playful -- but also I guess, it denotes a sort of leading somewhere. There are several brackish creeks in my neighborhood that one can follow out to the sea -- some run parallel to the journey so you could actually be on the salt water river and see a small creek off to the side. Mmmmm. Thanks for making me think about this the way I really should for revision.
I was going for an unfolding of a map with the couplets in the first part there FYI.
Yea yea, punkshewation and you hit it right -- I was going for on and on
The cord, I suppose is not exactly nautical but damn thanks for seeing that connection I didn't.
AH. I'm so delighted to have had you visit and spend so much of your time on this. THANK YOU.
I'll be thinking about your notes during a revision.
How the hell are you?
Lisa.
-
-
Quite a journey Lisa.
I cannot offer criticism ( I never can)
Nor for that matter much in the way of verbose praise.
But I do like it, read it twice and will again.
-
scribbling atlas notes on bathroom walls...
at what point in the forward tincture does elacticative principle turn to misenthropic tolerance? which punitive line slips between heaven's gate and its back door? where are the rest of us suppose to find the uncommon roadways not drawn in pretty colors? you drew the map with your own invisible ink where each word was about to pause and look directly into a sunlight that never rose. again, one hell of a word threading here...
-
reminds me of melville, which in turn reminds me of
At Melville's Tomb
Often beneath the wave, wide from this ledge
The dice of drowned men's bones he saw bequeath
An embassy. Their numbers as he watched,
Beat on the dusty shore and were obscured.
And wrecks passed without sound of bells,
The calyx of death's bounty giving back
A scattered chapter, livid hieroglyph,
The portent wound in corridors of shells.
Then in the circuit calm of one vast coil,
Its lashings charmed and malice reconciled,
Frosted eyes there were that lifted altars;
And silent answers crept across the stars.
Compass, quadrant and sextant contrive
No farther tides . . . High in the azure steeps
Monody shall not wake the mariner.
This fabulous shadow only the sea keeps.
different tho, Gaea u see, rather than grumpy old Poseiden--who all the time thinks he's in charge of everything--when he's not:
the woven cord scrapes our palms
while it unravels
As Gaea, (as Chaos), gives birth-and in due time Mercutio dreams of Mab--
always out of the magic, before the pride of Job,
"the Descent of Inanna--before Him in other words,
She was.---and what She sees:
and what is left stings
the eyes of the children left standing
on the reeded shore
their toes sunk in warm sand
where grass blades wet and bent
compete with twisted moonbeams
held in their small hands
for what is left of a distant reflection.
Yup.
-
i reckon it is the turkey sandwich then
unless it's the donuts
now back to Sindbad
you surely brewed this a while
ribbons of cherub laughter - love that
low incantation - low laughter
unless it is intentionate fix it
but i'd keep the "low" near headlands in any case
and nitghtsongs using themselves - a bit awkward
the whole line, i'd revise that too
glazed good
-
I remember this one..
I liked it before
and even more now, it fits the prompt so well..
the lullaby in the first stanza takes the cake... and the wounding language... god ain't it though..
i always love it when you go whimsy on me
more please
Thanks for entering, Lisa.
-
A grand adventure poured on the page. I enjoyed this journey!! Good fortune in the contest!
-
-
Thanks. I wish it were better. I must continue to search...
but thanks. What type of dog is that you're sporting?
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 15 of 15
