The Three Word Wednesday site master writes:
Each week, I post three words. You write something using the words... This week's words:
hint, lust, sheen
This poem is my response. Go here 3WW CCIX to get access to the work of the other participants.
Loving The Crow
I've been looking high
and low, under rocks, behind
the dusty curtains
that make me sneeze hard
trying for a hint, some clue
left behind, some taste
of your red ripe lust
for life.
I would stroke
your feathers until
the sparks would leap off your back
leaving the blue black
sheen of your bird life
for all to see spun large, large
on my pallid shape.
Contraction
1 week ago
Excellent read!
ReplyDeleteI read this earlier, tried to decipher your exact meaning, came back again now.
ReplyDeleteI think there is room here for the reader's personal interpretation. I love the imagery, the language, and from the dusty curtains to the sparks, it's just really lovely with a touch of magic.
I just like the images as I read this. So well done, like a painting, with words.
ReplyDeleteTumble, thank you.
ReplyDeleteR.S. Bohn, why can't a poem just tell a story without much hidden meaning? Just asking. I am not fond of word painting just for word painting sake, and meaning be damned, but on the other hand I come from the kind of fiction where a "cracking good story" is the governing factor and high falutin' literature can go disappear up its own hole. But of course I don't really mean that, because I have plenty of meaningful poetry.
Maybe this isn't one of them. Maybe this is just a guy who loves and admires crows from a certain point of view.
Thom, I appreciate your comment.
beautiful; my sensate self thanks you.
ReplyDeleteI loved the line - "your red ripe lust for life."
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this. :-)
This is different from your typical style, more postmodern feeling. I like it, regardless!
ReplyDelete(ps. I got around to a reply in our tapestry just now.)
Harlequin, you have a sensate self. That makes the little fuzzy hairs on the back of my neck stir.
ReplyDeleteSusannah, that line came starting with wanting the color red to couple with lust.
Rachel, I think I could pull up several poems in the shape shifting categories and if I laid them side by side you would see a common thread. I didn't say so but my placement of myself was really more, I am a crow too. A crow to his lover...
I can't tell how much I enjoyed reading this. Crows are a class in themselves.
ReplyDeleteI happen to admire the crows, much maligned birds. My dad said that crows bring us news about our ancestors. I believe that. Because on the day of Dad's anniversary, I see a horde of them cawing near my window sill.
a subtle hint
Thank you for your love of crows. I have a Persian blog friend whose blog is named Thus Spake The Crow http://www.dearteachercrow.blogspot.com
ReplyDeleteShe is much more intent on crows than am I.
I watched a convention of crows one day many years ago. I have no idea what was going on but they were constantly arriving and leaving a tree about a hundred yards away from our back door. At any given moment there were several hundred crows all in that one tree but it could have been over a thousand crows involved since there were so many departures and arrivals. I would like very much to know what was going on.
The crows are at it again here :) My tribute to this blue black bird is here http://nankablogs.blogspot.com/2010/08/nesting-time.html
ReplyDeleteThey really are quite intelligent if you observe them well!! :) But also make me run around dusty curtains to check what is left behind :) A regular on my window and what a cacophony.... :)
As always dear one, you are a gifted wordsmith. Letting you know my heart still beats and all is well.
ReplyDeleteCherie
I miss you, my Texas angel.
ReplyDeleteVery nice Sir. The imagery of something precious lost, perhaps a cherished memory.
ReplyDelete........dhole
Crows and bright shiny things...this is one of the serendipities since I didn't actually have crows collecting bright shiny things in mind when I wrote the poem.
ReplyDelete