Benjamin Posted January 28, 2013 Share Posted January 28, 2013 a pair of silver jets fly low then sweep up high leaving behind a bridal train-- and rumbles that churn and roll come crashing down like the wrath of god-- on coconut shells stuffed with suet and seed and pieces of fruit and bread scattered on paths below the once green larch where magpie starling pigeon and gull jostle-- with robin wren and mistle thrush 1 a silver teapot on the table rests by matching racks of buttered toast and propped newspapers mince confetti conversations amongst the steaming cups and sun-pre-warmed conservatory seats 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
fdelano Posted January 28, 2013 Share Posted January 28, 2013 The stark images here brought a static charge to the hair on my arms. I read this several times, each bringing new meanings. " "a pair of silver jets fly lowthen sweep up high leaving behind a bridal train--" Contrails were once a constant vision in my life, now just a microcosm of hundreds of souls passing like ships in the night. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Larsen M. Callirhoe Posted January 28, 2013 Share Posted January 28, 2013 very image filled poem b. enjoyed. victor Quote Larsen M. Callirhoe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted February 1, 2013 Author Share Posted February 1, 2013 Thank you both. The implications of the jet fighters' "maneuvers" contrasts with the innocent "jostling" for survival of indifferent non-migratory birds. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dcmarti1 Posted February 1, 2013 Share Posted February 1, 2013 stuffed with suet and seed My favorite line. Peace to the birds..... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted February 12, 2013 Author Share Posted February 12, 2013 Added a stanza to this... hopefully not detrimental. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted March 23, 2013 Share Posted March 23, 2013 Ben, I have come back to this one several times. The added stanza brings an entirely different dimension and sense of mystery to a piece that already "raises hair on the arm" (well said, Paco). As Boromir might say upon encountering the added lines: "What new devilry is this!" What indeed? Is this the indifferent setting for the privileged who set such mayhem in motion? Is it in the neighborhood of the conflict, and if so, where are those who are supposed to be enjoying pleasantries proffered - fled to some alarm, victims of an accompanying attack (gas, fast-acting bacteria, blast of radiation as from neutron bomb)? Or is it just me, missing the point, yet tanalized by juxtaposition of images? Another note (probably more valid than the ramblings of the initial paragraph): I like the conjunction of earth-shaking violence with birds going about the business of flitting around, finding food, etc. Reminiscent of themes raised by W. H. Auden in Musee des Beaux Artes. Thanks, - Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted March 23, 2013 Author Share Posted March 23, 2013 Thanks for coming back to this Dave. Without taking the mystery away I guess it's a way of saying the world will still turn irrespective of what we do. Purely as a point of interest.. maidenhair trees survived Hiroshima and are still alive today. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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