Sunday, December 1, 2013

Cloudburst


Here at the border
of heaven and earth the plight
of angels forces
us into insight.
We've changed the issue, trouncing
all hope of fire, thanks
to crisis, the word
that we must depend on love
to weather. I hold
you, your black feathers,
then you touch my useless stubs.
There is no paved road.

‎December 1, ‎2013 12:22 PM


Offered on two sites:
As a Magpie Tale on The Mag 196
As a Wordle response on The Sunday Whirl

18 comments:

  1. Very well expressed poem, Christopher.

    Pamela

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  2. The wordle words were tough for me this week,so I'm impressed how you were then able to combine them with another prompt!

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    1. To me, Robyn, the double prompt actually makes the creative process easier like this: I have my poetic form because I have used the same one for years now. One site offers a significant number of words, placing limits and adding pressure. The other site offers an image, suggesting angels and black wings, placing limits in another direction, again increasing pressure. I am enclosed by form and image and even words. Big pressure. The poem spurts out.

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  3. That's really rather slendid.

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  4. Made me think of Wings of Desire..sad..but lovely..

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    1. I really liked that movie. I did not think of it consciously. Wings of Desire is a remake of a rather famous German movie. I have the German movie somewhere but never watched it.

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  5. Yes, Christopher ... this is incredibly lovely.

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    1. Oh drat! I had hoped for credible... but then angels, wings, and stumps where I suppose wings once were... I guess not credible... :(

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  6. enjoyed how you merged both prompts and the result is beautiful..

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  7. Excellent...brilliant last line...

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    1. The last line came as I realized I had not used "road" yet. I forget what was the first phrasse, but it wasn't right and I changed a couple other lines, coming back to that line. The form of it was the very last thing I did with the poem.

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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.


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