Monday, October 17, 2011

Haunted


The moon hung low outside my north window
Before the deep sky swallowed it up whole
Barring the lucid eye to midnight’s soul
Bustle dies beneath night’s giant shadow

The ragged tree offers no resistance
To breezes tugging at her faded dress
Silence weaves a somber cloak of darkness
Tonight the leaves are too heavy to dance

The stage, weighted with rain and sullen wind
Is perfectly arranged, my dear, for you
Hov’ring like silver threads of frozen dew
Elusive yet so heavy on my mind

The moon hung low outside my north window
The greedy sky snuffs out its valiant spark
I cannot see you for it is too dark
But I feel you shivering in the shadow

J~

6 comments:

  1. Oh, your words are 'haunting'! Perfect image to set the stage for this mysterious ~ and slightly spooky poem :)

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  2. Hi Megan,
    We have a large north window beside the computer desk...front-row seat as I watched the orange orb slowly shrink to half, quarter, thin crescent, then inky darkness. I wrote the original in my usual a-b-a-b rhyme scheme, but it was too smooth for the
    mood I was going for so I shuffled the lines to an a-b-b-a scheme. First I entitled it Cold and Dark, because it was...thus the current title.

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  3. I find it interesting that you rewrote to acheve a mood. For some, writing poetry is difficult, writing with rhyme more so, but I admire the spirit that takes a completed poem and rewrites with a different rhyme scheme. Mood is so important. It is achieved through word selection, length of lines, meter, rhyme and yes, rhyme scheme. Your poem, as posted, works wonderfully. Now, I’m wondering if you could have come up with the same mood by changing factors other than the rhyme scheme.

    I’ve told you that I read your poems very slowly, but there is a particular voice and pacing I hear in my inner ear as I’m reading. Believe it or not, it’s Vincent Price. I wish he was available to do a reading of some of your poetry. He had the most magnificent classically trained Shakespearian voice. It would be perfect for this poem.

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  4. I'm listening to Vincent Price reading one of my favorite poems, Casey at the Bat. Thank-you for the intro to such a distinct and rich voice.( I will book-mark his page:) I would love to find a voice to read my poetry (wouldn't we all?)...actually there is one man who recites in his live Christmas shows, one poem I wrote approx. 23 years ago. About 6 years ago I got a phone call asking permission to use this poem in his concerts. The other day I got a phone call asking if I would consider sending a hand-written letter of permission/conditions to publish this poem on his up-coming Christmas CD. Mike, I have heard this guy (Scott Woods, see link in side-bar) read this poem and he truly did it perfectly. He set the mood with violin and soft lighting. I will never forget it!plus, he is such a nice, humble guy... I am excited and hope it will bless many listeners! The poem is entitled In Search of Christmas Day. I think I may have posted it here last Christmas.

    Mike, you know how I said I might try audio? I'm still waiting for that brave moment.

    What other changes would you suggest? You know I am in kindergarten when it comes to the 'bones' of poetry...

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  5. What I would change about your writing? I am afraid of the question. You write with such a lovely, distinctive voice I would be terrified to tinker with it. On a side note, I don't know if you have been following Writer's Speak or not. The last discussion was on the writer's voice. I mentioned Viv and Paula as being two voices I could recognize through their writing, and said there were a couple more. You would be one of the others. If you posted somewhere anonymously, I'm pretty sure I would recognize it.

    I believe you are a wonderful writer—as you are. Could you be better? Maybe . . . maybe even probably, but I'm not the one to change it—not any more. When I first started reading your blog, I thought I was a better-than-average poet who could help this back-woods, beginning poet improve her stuff. That was when I'd read a handful of your poems. Now I've read many, many more and find myself a beginning hillbilly poet wanting to learn from you. While I may have a better handle on meter than you do (may have, I'm certainly not sure of that), you have a natural flare for writing that overrides simple meter. My taking apart Old Man was a perfect example. The screwed up meter in that poem should not work, but it does—perfectly. I could help you smooth out the meter, and working together we could turn that beautiful poem into a common, everyday poem that anyone could write.

    Years ago, there was a painter who jumped on the scene late in life. She was called Grandma Moses. Grandma Moses had no training in art. She simply wanted to paint so she painted. It was crude, raw and wonderful. There is such a thing as a God-given talent. I suppose it could be improved through practice and instruction; if so, that instruction should come from someone with years of teaching experience, not someone who is crude, raw and not so wonderful.

    The only safe suggestion I could give would be to expand your topics—stretch a bit out of your comfort zone. You have mastered the changing seasons, the love and wonder of you family, and your devotion to God. Look at an old cabin and feel the life it once held, good or bad. What are the thoughts of clouds? Write from a meth addict’s point of view. You have it in you to feel the patience of a giant oak and write as that tree would write (I may have to try that one).

    If you feel the need to explore the bones of poetry, reread In the Palm of Your Hand starting at chapter 16 or 17. If it should happen to change your style, it will be from a natural evolution that will fit with the poems that came before.

    Mike

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  6. :) ever feel like you're beating a dead horse? There a crazy little thing called...FEAR!:(( BUT I WILL NOT QUIT!

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Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.