Sometimes poems come in dribs and drabs of meaning and sound. This one, is sort of mimicking THE HOUND OF HEAVEN, only it is about a fish and the fisherman. Not sure whether I am the divine fisher or the catch, the poem is meant to bounce back and forth between thinking we can draw a conclusion and then again, that we cannot. This is still in the poem-seed stage, which means I am waiting for a bunch of material to bubble up from within the words to help it find an end. But, this is what I have so far. I don't usually use this sort of rhythm, and you will see that there is a place where it is not made terse enough to fit the cadence, but all that comes in time. Writing takes a deep trust in the recesses of the soul, and that it will release what it has hold of - at some point.
Gentle falls
The silent foot
Upon the stones
Of time;
Wading through
Th'glorious streams
And watching
For a sign;
Of darting forth
Or rolling o’er
How e’er the
Fish will out
Revealed to
One who holds
The reel and slowly
Moves about.
Who sets the
Hatch one finds
So near upon
The end of line;
Who casts it back
And puts on power
To land for
Fish to find.
Who sets the hook
And who is set
upon by tethered
meal.
Who is reeling
in the catch
And who is
being reeled
I it is
Upon the line
What end
I cannot say;
Nor know
If I pull in
Or out - just
Pull I must
With no delay.
Write the words
Upon my heart
Of how to catch
The fish
Of how to dress,
And poach it well
And place it on
The dish
But once it is
Devoured and
No more in space
Or time
It will be
my eternal Quest
to find Who’s me
or mine.
And sure I am
That oft’ will change
Of who has who
On line.
No comments:
Post a Comment