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Open Poetry #46
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Bastet
Member
since 2010-05-07
Posts 246


0 posted 2010-06-27 11:01 AM





LIGHTNING

Lightning’s an artist of momentary installations,
kindling strange fires in the night rain,
expiring in a snapshot of sparks
dotting a tableau with yellow flecks.

It quavers over the roof of a hut on a lonely shore,
making the lake wider to join the sky.
It sizzles on the foam of white-crested waves,
painting a rainbow in the moonlit fog.
It brightens the downy swan’s body, neck reversed,
head under wing, shunning the tempest.

It’s all an illusion, of course,
a mirror we view darkly
each image given only once.

THE BABY

Birth often happens at night, by noiseless moonlight ---

her crude roundness lying in the cobalt dew,
her huge tiredness hanging on the mountain ledge
where the valley doesn’t dare whisper an echo
and wind roams about in wordless fear

Who knows how long she’s lain there,
at nature’s earnest insistence,
trembling with her body’s deep connections,
she doesn’t understand.

Then, suddenly, a sack of rainbow silk appears ---
a slender hoof creates a bulge,
water spills in a sliver cloud,
a soft white muzzle bursts out
like soap suds, breathing in
the clay-blue air.

He is born perfect; he spreads his wings ---
the mirror image of the tiny horse
reflected in the depths of her dark eyes.


© Copyright 2010 Bastet - All Rights Reserved
Eldest
Member
since 2010-06-15
Posts 177
Alabama
1 posted 2010-06-28 04:53 PM


I like both of these, but the last one speaks volumes to me, I love it.
Bastet
Member
since 2010-05-07
Posts 246

2 posted 2010-06-29 02:11 AM


Thank you, Eldest. Having had only one comment one these poems, I really appreciate your interest.
easy1
Senior Member
since 2010-05-22
Posts 1209
Southeastern USA
3 posted 2010-07-04 07:31 PM


I enjoyed reading these. Both paint true images with well-chosen words very skillfully.

Also, the juxtaposition of the momentary lightning with the momentary birth is appreciated.  

LindsayP
Member Elite
since 2007-07-28
Posts 3410
Australia, Victoria
4 posted 2010-07-07 10:09 PM



Then, suddenly, a sack of rainbow silk appears ---
a slender hoof creates a bulge,
water spills in a sliver cloud,
a soft white muzzle bursts out
like soap suds, breathing in
the clay-blue air.

I have heard the birth of a foal described
many times but never with the poetic

expertise that you have written here.
A very clever post my friend. much enjoyed.

Lindsay



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