Saturday, October 1, 2005

Not a creation poem

A Memory of Smoke

He took night into his breath --
inhaled the light of meteor trails
and exhaled the ebony sky above him.

These were momentous sighs, embroidered
with sapphire and opal threads, each
a stitch of vapor in the space of tomorrow.

They issued from his bonfire chest
like birth wails and high tide; cicada songs,
bowed and powerless, rose to greet them.

There, drawn in the raging flame of sea
with one whispered proclamation, was dawn.

This was spawned by a list of Round Robin prompts posted here by Vickie



  1. Actually, I rather like this. It might be a bit weird, but not too bad. What I find strange is another repetition you've been doing....cicada.

  2. V~
    Late summer and early fall in NC is backdropped by the sound of cicadas, this year more than usual because this year was the year that the 14-yr cicadas hatched, so it's just been a constant presence for months. It has seeped into my subconscious I suppose.

  3. This first stanza is so beautiful, it melts into me. Although, I have a small nit (very small) with the second stanza, I am overwhelmed by its depth, its, to me, colored vapor image. The third seamlessly intertwines imagery of bursting fire chest and an almost auditory hallucination, my interpretation. I love the way it ends, one more very small nit there.

    Now that you intrigued as to what this nit is, allow me to say in the second stanza, omitting “the” from the second line just adds to this powerful line. And again in the last stanza, first line, the same effect results from the removal of the second “the.”

    I have to say, regardless of all other points, I feel this to be very well crafted, very well written, and a pleasure to read.

    ~ James

  4. I'm amazed at the amount of difference those omissions make James, amazed. Consider it done - as well as the same change in S1 L1