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Literature Text
I caught a sun gold.
Trembling old in my cupped palm, quiet copper,
as my rage on our queen, for so crippling me.
And how too did I rail –
against you, Cyprian beloved?
Understand: I grow too old
for bows and arrows, Eros.
Trembling old in my cupped palm, quiet copper,
as my rage on our queen, for so crippling me.
And how too did I rail –
against you, Cyprian beloved?
Understand: I grow too old
for bows and arrows, Eros.
Literature
Zemi
Things having to be returned to their transparency:
i.
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light
ii.
are recalcitrance / and you
are convergence
& - a fingernail of summer
- a melting of rain
- a crown of flowers
- a priest of sunsets
(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi? )
iii.
I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.
Literature
Windows
I.
Introduction to the sun
leave the window open
until wind rustles old photos
off the wall.
Sometimes I feel like
I'm a Polaroid.
-Shake Me-
until something meaningful
appears.
II.
I met you in the woods
laying in the rusted culvert,
brown eyes absorbing my home-cut hair and torn knees
I'm gunna to see everything in the world someday
I told you that sounded fun and
we played explorers (You asked to be Captain Cook,
I was the one holding the compass)
I saw you again in the bus seat
next to the window that was stuck down
even in the cold and rain
you liked the window
Most people just look out it,
but I like to feel the
Literature
thyroidal cartilage
i held a bird between my hands,
swallow's throat twitching in laryngeal spasms.
when i whispered gently,
lips millimeters from its ear,
'you are mine; there is nothing you can do'
it struggled, beak clicking like talon-fingernails on porcelain
i didn't mean to let it free, i swear.
it beat me back with a single shining look;
beaded gaze bruising, breaking capillaries and
bringing blood to the surface.
i would have gotten a black eye if i wasn't careful.
i wasn't.
careful, i mean. i was never careful.
with mirrored eyes i watched it fly,
wings beating in time to my heart.
my breath was a cloud of smoke,
droplets condensing
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March, 2013: Published in Harnessing Fire, an anthology (a book!) of prose, poetry, and art about Hephaestus. You can buy it from Amazon in paperback, from Amazon in Kindle, or from the online store in paperback.
On Hephaestus, the coppersmith, the god of fire. The "curse" refers the curse of the binding throne for Hera, his mother, who physically crippled him by throwing him off Olympus for his ugliness. Eros is the god of love, with the bows and arrows. He was said to be the son of Ares and Aphrodite, but some say he was raised by Hephaestus. "Cyprian beloved" is of course, Aphrodite.
Tell me what you think, please? Thank you.
Critique for tWR.
Edited 13.09.2012.
On Hephaestus, the coppersmith, the god of fire. The "curse" refers the curse of the binding throne for Hera, his mother, who physically crippled him by throwing him off Olympus for his ugliness. Eros is the god of love, with the bows and arrows. He was said to be the son of Ares and Aphrodite, but some say he was raised by Hephaestus. "Cyprian beloved" is of course, Aphrodite.
Tell me what you think, please? Thank you.
Critique for tWR.
Edited 13.09.2012.
© 2011 - 2024 Vigilo
Comments93
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactWow. This sat in my inbox for a very long time because the opening lines were so stunning I knew i would have to come back to it eventually and give it a critique that is worthy of it.
You have a very powerful, image heavy poem here and it's just beautiful to read. The first three lines jump out and give the reader a very vivid image. The lines about Harmonia a good touch, making us wonder which of his curses he's talking about.
The last two lines are very powerful as well, and sad. I like how strong it is at the beginning and the end, it is short, to the point, well capped. I feel like it flowed and the meter was good.
The only one eensy weensy thing I would suggest changing is the word charred. It's not actually incorrect grammatically, and I also like alliteration, so if you want to keep it, ignore me. But though the word does mean scorched or seared it most often refers to something scorached to the point of reducing it to charcoal, so it is normally reserved for collocations like 'charred bodies' or 'charred wood'. Again, it's not actually incorrect, so the choice is yours, but I think a stronger word for a metal might be seared or burnt.
Ok so, all in all 4.75 stars, this is really fantastic, and thank you also for providing the context in the notes, because it makes the poem that much stronger to know where it's coming from.