TSM 136

A poem plunged into the seaI hear you singing
I row to where the words riseThe Water is Wide
moil, roil 
in columnslost in time, escarpments, translation from the Malagasy
The return of the Sargasso Comet 
The Salt MeteorIt 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 soAnd so
Were you ever Icarus?I’m sorry, no
And soAnd so
I return to shoreYour oars are oak and stripling ash
The forest has no place at sea
I press the ore blades across my chestI will bring the lightning
Restart my heartOne hundred hundred times
For this I love you

The Sunday Muse

18 thoughts on “TSM 136

  1. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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!


  2. 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!!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. 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.


  4. 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!


    Liked by 1 person

  5. 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. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

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