Poetry

Ice dark (the world is dreaming).

lie across the taurobolium

at the motherless spring

without feeling, without breath;

pale mulberries infiltrate the wind

in ice dark of obscured dreams

by the sea-green void, vanishing by the surf,

as the fresh dew slumbers in the whiteness of morning

exorcised with twigs of the dying trees. 

flicker with the nightly, strange sea,

the augur bleeds madly onto the sand

behind the betrayed fog mire

these helpless longings, starved in the droplets of mist

in the solitude of each shadow that breaks each rock and stone

broken in its place like a fallen leaf lifeless in the stretch of dreaming,

expanded in the tarry blue in ancient loss, what it truly means to grieve,

shivering god-like, shivering emerging from a cocoon;

the robin’s nest is naked, violently absent, as it shutters across the viaducts,

blending with the past—the secrecy having gone, tormenting a breath

in the dark snow, a wound in the interstices, each winter returning 

disappearing in another’s cruelty, remembrance; rejecting the kiss upon flesh

the wind retreats upon you, waving a leaf, the dance of a prelude in a whispering fear,

the world dreaming.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Reposted for the dVerse Open Link Night. It was so fun to listen to everyone read live and I am especially honored to have met you all during the live poetry reading. Happy Thanksgiving. 🙂

70 thoughts on “Ice dark (the world is dreaming).”

    1. Thank you. ❤️ This piece is easier to look at as a stream of consciousness than anything purely concrete. What I had in mind for this poem was the inner torment of grief, and how on the other end of emotions, there’s denial which can be delineated darkly as dreaming. I also included the imagery of the world “dreaming” when there’s so much grief manifested in life.

      I hope that helps you understand the poem a bit better. I honestly write on emotion than meaning in mind, so trust me, I get confused in some areas of my poetry, thinking “What did I intend here? What did I mean with that line?”

      Thank you so very much for the feedback. It’s greatly appreciated.

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  16. Late November freezes the soil and soul this way, a nadir of absence we all must winter through. … the latin inflections (“taurobolium,” ‘viaduct”) somehow remind me of David Jones, who felt there was much a-dream in the long fields of language, which you tend so well. Humanity has been failing at this longing game a long time … It makes the mood almost paralyzingly fraught. Magical, too. Well done.

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    1. Thank you so very much, Brendan. Your feedback really impacted me as I share similar sentiments on: “Humanity has been failing at this longing game a long time.” It’s a game that can be like chess, we either understand the reality and the gravity it imposes or we do not; we then can be in denial of not only our senses, but the state of the world and the grief it can bring. Thank you again for sharing your thoughts, I enjoyed reading them greatly. Have a Happy Thanksgiving. 🙂

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    2. We are this little spot of the
      World
      A spot within the
      Cosmos
      Aware of world and cosmos
      Spinning
      within us
      Failing long time
      To plan to be able
      to keep breathing,
      We are the world
      Dreaming,
      Where do we go
      When it
      wakes up?

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  17. Stunning, stunning stream of consciousness flowing here, Lucy! 💝 I love; “flicker with the nightly, strange sea, the augur bleeds madly onto the sand.” 🙂

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  19. I enjoy reading your poems about grief and death, as if you are always finding new ways to show your emotions.

    This imagery to me is tragic: motherless spring and the robin’s nest is naked, violently absent, as it shutters across the viaducts. The spring season is beautiful, but death is always present when life takes a step forward from the dark snow.

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    1. Thank you so very much, Grace. You are correct when you say that I try to find “new ways to show my emotions.” That is exactly what I aim in my poetry and I hope I have achieved it as you say. Thank you for the wonderful feedback!

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  20. Don’t be shy, your poetry is dark and stunning, and no one else could read it aloud with your inflections and emotions. Still, it was wonderful to meet you. This piece seems to be your present style while still forming. SOC is a good key to enjoying your work. I ,can write that way, unfettered, unhinged, tennis with the net down, but have difficulty “reading” with such abandon. Your poetic gift is rare, and your poetics are always fascinating.

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    1. Oh Glenn, little do you know I am chronically, devastatingly shy. Hahaha. Next time I will read, but it was wonderful to meet you as well! Yes, this piece was during a transitionary period in my poetry that I was still trying to work on. I thank you again for your lovely comments, they truly make my day and I appreciate them greatly. Thank you for your support. 🙂

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    1. Hahaha, thanks! I actually did not read this during the live event, only opting to meet everyone and hear their beautiful poetry instead. 🙂 I am very shy, so I hope next time I find the courage to read aloud my work. Thank you, though.

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  22. Love reading this as a stream of consciousness piece – wonderful how take an image – and empty robin’s nest – powerful in itself – and then extend it – ‘violently absent’ – and then further – so it’s like a note in this dirge. Also I’ve just started re-reading Ovid’s Metamorphoses – and the themes of transformation (often times painful or ridiculously disproportionate) – echo here.

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  24. So, so beautiful, Lucy! It was great to e-meet you too. I’m thinking of holding a poetry challenge on free verse: would you mind if I recommend your site for an example of how to do it! Your work is breathtaking 🙏

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  28. You have made excellent use of hints of colour in this poem, Lucy, especially in ‘pale mulberries infiltrate the wind’, ‘sea-green void’ and ‘expanded in the tarry blue’, dotted among the ‘whiteness of morning’ and ‘exorcised with twigs of the dying trees’. I love how it links to the taurobolium in the ‘augur bleeds madly onto the sand’, baptism with the blood of a sacrificed bull – a horrific cult ceremony. I also love the phrase ‘tormenting a breath in the dark snow’, which made me shiver and pull my blanket tighter around me. I’m so glad you joined us for OLN Live!

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  29. I’m sorry I missed “meeting” you. I really love this poem full of such gorgeous phrases and imagery. I know this is not what the poem is “about,” but in my mind, I saw a scene of dream worlds opening–or past and present meeting in dark and cold–sacrifices, altars, and priestesses. . . Anyway, quite a vivid scene. 😀

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