Thursday, April 27, 2006

untitled love poem (see comments, suggestions welcome)

I

You rise out of flat stone
the shield
of your heart.
The moon crosses the sun.
Do we
become light
when we dream?

The folds of your corduroy
like ridges and hollows
furrows where the Spring runoff
sculpts a geology
in a landscape of tundra.

"passageways and connections that
happen deep within us when in relation
to another..." Nancy Otto

In our Klondike, cross and beams
hold the tunnels we dig through
to find the gold in each other,
rich veins tracing through the rock
like sunlight.

II

Spring is a tendril
of green;
the leaves a papery mass of veins unfolding.

Cliffs of grass by the old mine ripple
in the wind.

We are like those two trees
ancient, weathered, yet
our roots thoroughly
intertwined.

What is
underground
is what holds us.

The deeper passageways
and connections.

III

I wear the crescent moon in my hair,
the cold northern air;
you are the sun buried in the land,
illumined from within.

The sharp edges
in each moment
bind us.

My Adoni, my Aholi,

even in this harsh typography
you are a landscape of love,
a cartography of desire.


©Brenda Clews 2006

9 comments:

  1. Oh, there are parts of this that really grabbed me.

    What is
    underground
    is what holds us.


    The sharp edges
    in each moment
    bind us.


    ... and the ways in which it weaves together underlying meanings.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous3:43 PM

    Oh my dear~this Poetry is so stunning it brings a tremble to spirit. This is a work that expands outward from your own voice to the voices of many. This is the measure of a remarkable composition.

    Once, in the long ago time, our Friend visited Blue Cottage as TheThreeSarahs and stated that a particular work caused them to fall from their perch and melt into a pool of overwhelming emotion.

    This Poem of yours Brenda, is such a Poem~residing in places of Shimmering.

    Blessings~

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you MB, and laurieglynn.

    The figure in the poem seems to be an amalgam of the men I've loved longest. There are enough loving men around me, I can't complain, but no-one that I'm involved with. Sigh. Hope that changes soon! (Courage, courage.)

    The title that I had thought of is a line from a poem by Hafiz, the 14th c Sufi master: Our Destiny Is To Turn Into Light

    Here's the poem:

    Faithful Lover

    The moon came to me last night
    With a sweet question.

    She said,

    "The sun has been my faithful lover
    For millions of years.

    Whenever I offer my body to him
    Brilliant light pours from his heart.

    Thousands then notice my happiness
    And delight in pointing
    Towards my beauty.

    Hafiz,
    Is it true that our destiny
    Is to turn into Light
    itself?"

    Hafiz, The Gift, trans. Daniel Ladinsky (Toronto: Penguin, 1999), p.159.

    While my poem is about light, it's really about roots, and works off Nancy Otto's lines (she's an artist who creates small, stunning glass sculptures where she explores our inner consciousnesses, our inner lives, the deep channels and underground ways that we connect).

    Adoni and Aholi are both gods of nature: one ancient Phoenician; the other, ruler of the Pikya clan of Native Americans. Nature is usually imaged as a woman, but sometimes as a man - the dying & resurrected god.

    Also I'm currently not just crazy about Hafiz, but also Pablo Neruda, his love poems, and Juan O'Neill's translation of Macchu Picchu.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I read this as being about light from underground:

    tracing through the rock
    like sunlight...
    What is
    underground
    is what holds us....
    buried in the land,
    illumined from within....


    There is a wonderful tension that is created by such an apparently oxymoronic image. But when we dig deep and open up what is there, what sudden illumination bursts forth? It is spiritual, personal, sexual, nature-al... I am not at all surprised to see you reference Hafiz and Neruda!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Brenda. This is so good.

    The bit I particularly like is:

    *The folds of your corduroy
    like ridges and hollows
    furrows where the spring run-off
    sculpts a geology
    in a landscape of tundra*

    and as for

    *What is
    underground
    is what holds us*

    Yes indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  6. MB, yes, it's very definitely about our hidden connections, the deeper ones that may be called underground. Where the image of the two trees with tangled roots came from I don't know, but I now love that image of a deepened, tried and tested love. Of a closeness that's developed over time. Some of those roots may even be as one, drawing nourishment from the soil they are in together. I hope a title comes soon!

    Mary, your sensitivity is so appreciated. Our roots hold us in the earth, nourish us, but we are interconnected 'underground' in so many ways! Glad for our connection...

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  7. Good to see you here, Brenda.

    I like the very earthy style of this three-fer.

    ReplyDelete
  8. The heartbeat within your rythms is a palpable thing that draws us in - maybe even too deeply

    "We are like those two trees
    ancient, weathered, yet
    our roots thoroughly
    intertwined.

    What is
    underground
    is what holds us."

    yes indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Ethereal. Some lovely moments.

    ReplyDelete

A Pulsing Imagination - Ray Clews' Paintings

A video of some of my late brother Ray's paintings and poems I wrote for them. Direct link: https://youtu.be/V8iZyORoU9E ___