Three Raven.

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).

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40 Comments

  1. 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! 💝

    Liked by 3 people

  2. 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. 💔

    Liked by 3 people

  3. 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.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. 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.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. 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.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. 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’.

    Liked by 4 people

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