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| Photo: time after time © pop-aj from Onexposure |
if somewhere a mad poet should raise a terrible axe
as the great owl hoots
the mighty axe rises to the moon
its steel face gleaming cold
in a final fell swoop
through the dark forest
thwunkkk
it bites the warm and supple wood
the avenging elm
shakes the imprisoned axe
makes it shiver like a mad tuning fork
calling out to the infinite
family of nails
countless mineral slivers
silently burrowed in timber
all awaken and begin
to hum and tremble
steel spikes quiver everywhere
wood tremors surge
through our carpentered world
crosses fall apart
becoming scattered rail ties
rafters shake
swallows flee quaking homes
mirrors release their looking glass
trapped reflections
shatter into jagged shards
I emerge from the ruins of my house
toppled logs kneel around me
listening to the moon owl’s song
lodged in the wounded
wooded heart of midnight
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| Magpie Tales 6 — Nails |
vivid imagery...mad poets...mad tuning forks...perhaps anger management classes....smiles. nicely done...
ReplyDeletepowerful imagery, i felt like i was there. loved the use of the tuning fork, very clever indeed!!!
ReplyDeleteWow...
Very powerful... particularly liked the closing lines
ReplyDeletewounded
"wooded heart of midnight"
Oh......would that I could use words and make beautiful imagery in my mind.
ReplyDeleteJust beautiful.
I LOVE the Renoir quote that you left for me. I am keeping it forever.
What a fine imagination you have! I liked the notion of timber humming and trembling, collapsing all around the world as the poet's mad axe drives into the wood. Really lovely work.
ReplyDeleteMine is here
I loved these lines:
ReplyDeletethe mighty axe rises to the moon
its steel face gleaming cold
mirrors release their looking glass
trapped reflections
shatter into jagged shards
I emerge from the ruins of my house
toppled logs kneel around me
The mad poet should indeed raise his terrible axe :)! He wields a might power in the swing.
MIGHTY, that is.
ReplyDeleteYou were attuned to the 'inner nature of trees' and expressed it eloquently. I think the mad poet heard the "silent whispers of the gods" Thoreau and yourself would have been good fellows together in silent walks through the woods.
ReplyDeleteJoanny
...lodged in the wounded
ReplyDeletewooded heart of midnight
Gorgeous.
"the avenging elm
ReplyDeleteshakes the imprisoned axe
makes it shiver like a mad tuning fork"
I LOVE this! You absolutely captured a moment we readers of poems more than likely have never read about!
Beautiful imagery ... I was there! :))
Stunning imagery.
ReplyDeleteBeginning,
Middle,
and ending as strong as nails!
"...the avenging elm shakes the imprisoned axe makes it shiver like a mad tuning fork calling out to the infinite family of nails..."
Nice unbinding spell.
ReplyDeleteYowsers! What writing!
ReplyDeleteI am spellbound by the imagery of your words.
ReplyDelete"the wounded wooded heart of midnight" Gorgeous!
ReplyDeleteWow--wonderful images here, and such a mellifluous, alliterative tone. Excellent job! I echo the line Willow quoted above--that one really struck a chord--I had to say that out loud. Well done. Take a bow.
ReplyDeleteThe revolt of the nails! Great scene.
ReplyDeleteSplendid, powerful, great imagery. Loved it, thanks!
ReplyDeleteThis is really powerful. The images and mood you call up - reminds me of Auden, especially these stanzas:
ReplyDeletecountless mineral slivers
silently burrowed in timber
all awaken and begin
to hum and tremble
steel spikes quiver everywhere
wood tremors surge
through our carpentered world
crosses fall apart
becoming scattered rail ties
rafters shake
swallows flee quaking homes
mirrors release their looking glass
trapped reflections
shatter into jagged shards
Very powerful imagery. It made me think of Ents :)
ReplyDeleteLorenzo, this is impossibly brilliant, or maybe I'm poetry starved and that is the reason I've returned to re-read this poem again and again.
ReplyDeleteYou are a master of words. A life poet.
i do believe mad poets are about this kind of business often.
ReplyDeleteI'm here by way of Amy. I'm grateful.
Hi Lorenzo (my grandfather went by the same name 1841 -1915). I loved your poem. so many effortless lines with great imagery:
ReplyDeletetoppled logs kneel around me
listening to the moon owl’s song
lodged in the wounded
wooded heart of midnight
First time for me, reciprocating your visit to mine. I will be back.
great choice of words here! Hopefully, I can elavated to this level someday. Thanks for your wonderful example of creative writing. And yes, Yorkshire tea is hot and steemy! Come on over!
ReplyDelete:) The Bach
Loving the "mad tuning fork" line! The words paint such a vivid picture. Thank you!
ReplyDeletelove love this.
ReplyDeleteunbelievable.
Just checking :)
ReplyDeleteAgain... you are no longer allowed to claim that you are "not a poet."
ReplyDeleteThis rocked.
As an aside, the first couple of stanzas reminded me of a rather controversial short film called "Treevenge." You should check it out if you haven't already. No, it's really nothing to do with the poem... just reminded me of it.
Just dropping in to say hello. Hope you're enjoying your holiday! xx
ReplyDeleteI am a baby writer and I felt to be in the light of one who dances with images in that poem. Wow is all I can say. Joan T
ReplyDeletethe moon owl!!! Oh my, this is indeed a real find of a poem! And thank you so much for listing Felicia's poem on your sidebar. I'll tell her. She's be delighted.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many devastations in this poem, I feel the page can't contain them. Above all, the devastation of a mad poet with axe in hand.
ReplyDeleteI'll come back. Maybe a day for each line would suffice.