God’s moon, leavetaking
from the garden, the wildling from its fruit
I’ve killed; like the moon without its stalked
winters, I cannot behold reconciliation
of two silhouettes; the phone-line I cut
still lures my name.
in the echoes of the orange orchard,
perfumed in late air, eyes known the moon;
this stone will
not vanish, I could though
into disconnection, knowing then
of gods writhing with bony trees
is (at last) silent.
© 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the dVerse prompt:
- see if you can hook yourself a new reader with upfront vivid images and unusual word use
- maybe stick with tradition (starting top left) or forge out in a new direction, maybe even a one line, or even a one-word poem (though please read the article that I’ve linked to Saroyan’s poem)
- perhaps try your hand at some found poetry, make something shapely or striking or something off the fridge
- or perhaps a poem beginning with a line by a poet who’s provoked or enthralled or charmed or annoyed you (don’t forget to link to the original poem in your post).
I noticed that the moon was almost full the other day when the sky was clear… love what you can take from such a fruit… so many shadows from a full moon.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Swooning I am 😀 I especially love; “I cannot behold reconciliation of two silhouettes; the phone-line I cut still lures my name.” You rocked the prompt! 💝
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you, Sanaa. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Gripping and tense, and love those last few lines. I mean, what’s not to love – “gods writhing with bony trees is (at last) silent”
Well done, Lucy.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you, Misky! It’s an honor.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Strong images and such turmoil in the verses. “This stone will not vanish,” is so heavy in that some things will never leave even after we cut the phone lines. The emotional struggle is tangible here. 💔
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much, Tricia. You’re exactly right, some things are harder to fade away even if it is for the right reasons.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, it’s life, we get rocks thrown at us and then they are hard to move. 💕
LikeLiked by 2 people
Definitely.
LikeLiked by 2 people
That’s a great first line – intriguing & bereft – which echoes down through the rest of the poem – I particularly liked the image of the orange orchard, ‘perfumed in late air’ – here’s us kicked out of Eden, the perfume of what we’ve lost taunts us across that old impenetrable wall.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you, Peter!
LikeLiked by 1 person
O that leavetaking be so easy; the moon’s been struggling in its net for aeons. Still, such absenting chills the marrow of this poem, like a phone line that’s lost its handset. Or something. The verse is gorgeous though opaque as a moonless night.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so, so much Brendan!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A fascinating poem, Lucy … love that you published this when we are blessed with a full moon tonight. I was most intrigued by ‘this stone will not vanish, I could though.’ Spooky.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Aww, thank you. ❤ ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on About the Jez of It and commented:
I was sold on the title, no surprise there, I wasn’t disappointed – excellent write, Lucy
LikeLiked by 3 people
Oh wow, I don’t know what to say. Thank you so very much for your kind words and the reblog! ❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
Most welcome Lucy
LikeLiked by 2 people
❤ ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
You had me at the title, THREE RAVENS, a Gothic pub on the edge of some haunted moors, the title of a novel, or a Victorian painting. Though I did not find blackbird one within the piece, and did find the lunatic fringe, and plenty of mooning. Another fine poem from Lucy’s pulsing pen.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you, Glenn! 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
This feels like a walk through a burial garden… talking to the stones and feeling the call of those long passed, yet knowing your time of disconnect too is coming! Beautifully done Lucy!
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so much. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think any one of your first lines would draw me in, and this is no exception! I loved ‘like the moon without its stalked
winters’ – stalked winters, wow!
LikeLiked by 3 people
Aww, Ingrid, thank you so very much. 😊
LikeLiked by 2 people
Lucy,
I really loved this line in particular 🙂
-David
LikeLiked by 3 people
Aww, thank you David!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Such a strange coincidence, Lucy: I took photographs of the moon still round and clear outside my window this morning, ‘leavetaking from the garden’! I like the way the two stanzas are connected by the cut phone-line and disconnection, and love the appeal to the senses of the ‘orange orchard, perfumed in late air’.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Ah, that is indeed a strange coincidence! I’m glad you could enjoy the poem, I thank you so much for your lovely words. ❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
That’s an arresting opening phrase! I like the nod to Wallace Stevens too.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Oh, so compelling and full of intrigue! Bravo!
LikeLiked by 4 people
Thank you, Eugi!
LikeLiked by 2 people
My pleasure, Lucy!
LikeLiked by 2 people
❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
Lucy another truly captivating poem. Just those first two words made me incredibly curious and drew me in. As always well written and an interesting read.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you so very much, Rob!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well done!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike