| A poem plunged into the sea | I hear you singing |
| I row to where the words rise | The Water is Wide |
| moil, roil | |
| in columns | lost in time, escarpments, translation from the Malagasy |
| The return of the Sargasso Comet | |
| The Salt Meteor | It was hard to tap the sky |
| and break through clouds | |
| quarried of marble | |
| Are your tatters of seaweed | |
| meant for wings? | I am tired of sinking ships and sailors |
| I fly the slick and rope of sorrow | |
| And so | And so |
| Were you ever Icarus? | I’m sorry, no |
| And so | And so |
| I return to shore | Your oars are oak and stripling ash |
| The forest has no place at sea | |
| I press the ore blades across my chest | I will bring the lightning |
| Restart my heart | One hundred hundred times |
| For this I love you |
-
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qbit 
That first line “A poem plunged into the sea” – love!
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Ah, thank you!!
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Occasionally a poem will take my breath away. This does. The rich imagery of the sea and sky, the gnossos of them, permeates this, and the singsong structure and refrains worm it into the bone. “..I fly the slick and rope of sorrow..” “were you ever Icarus? I’m sorry, no..” Just stunning, straight-into-the-heart work. My very great pleasure to read it.
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OK. Pressing on.
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Clear! I’m with Hedge, this smacked me upside the head, snapped its fingers in my face and sent the charge HOOO-WEEEE
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Reporting from the frontier of medical science, the wooden defibrillator paddles didn’t work so well. In the burn unit until further notice. So glad you are back in the fray!
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No comment I can leave can do justice to these masterful poetic lines Qbit! “I am tired of sinking ships and sailors” & “the Forrest has no place at sea” are just a few! I would really have to quote every column!! Truly breathtaking!!!!
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Thank you so much!!
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I fell in love with this poem … I’M the one needing a defib paddle ~ and an eye patch ….. love how this is one poem … no, it’s two poems … no, it’s one splendid poem.
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!!!!!
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Well, I made it but my mind was riled up about roil and moil, moil wasn’t in my country 1-8 school. And roil in better form was rile. Churned was fine becsuse we made our own butter.
I liked your banter between page sides. Was that hard to compose?
Keep it up, I’m ready and roiled, moiled, riled, and churned up, NOT DOWN. You did good.
..
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Riled and churned are more than good enough. You are right, there’s a stilted sound to a lot of it. I’ll give that a think. Was it hard to compose? Yes, no, I don’t know. It wasn’t there after trying a lot of things, then it was there. You know how that is. For some unexplainable reason your perspective shifts ever so slightly and suddenly there’s a poem possible on the page. I sure wish I knew how to make that happen reliably! Anyway, thanks for giving it a read.
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and so… and so… it sings me to the final crescendo “for this I love you.” This is a very interesting poem. a pleasure to read.
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Thank you!
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kaykuala
I press the ore blades across my chest I will bring the lightning
Restart my heart. One hundred hundred times
One can never underestimate the strength of love to bring forth what may be fragmented into a whole. Rightly so qbit!
Hank
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Goodness you captured me from poem’s plunge into the sea until the ending. Powerful images!
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Ah… the paddles restarting life with electricity… I recognized that as my family is both compensated and volunteer fire and rescue.
Oh for the love, ~you are a romantic. 😉
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Unique poem with too many excellent phrases to cite here.
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