poem: The Light of the Pleides

Last night was clear and still

and breathtaking.

   Cold and lonely,

I stood at my window,

thinking

   of you-

thinking, this is what swallowing

   the Pleides, being targeted by Orion's

deadly aim, feels like.

 

I took the night sky

           in my hands

   and folded it into a blanket,

        tossed across my shoulders

Orion's belt at my waist,

 

Taurus tucked in my pocket,

   and this light for you,

         taken so deep in my body

      no-one who looks me

           in the eye

would know

     the Pleides want to shine there

each time my heart dwells

          on your beautiful face.

 

That arrow flew- it missed Taurus

  with his mad red eye and all,

       and hit me, somewhere in the chest;

I am unsure if the wound

     is fatal or not.

 

When I held my celestial robe

     to staunch the blood

          I wished you could have

  been there in my moment of weakness-

to see the light from Pleides

    that would blaze out of every

       pore, illuminating the

whole fabric of the blanket

         that moment your hand

              touched mine.

 

Reviews

[VennelaMargame]

Hmm, it's a nice metaphor that carries through, here, sort of along the lines of what a lot of 17th century poets would do. You know that trope; "come look at what this great X in nature is doing and realize that it's presenting to us what we ought to be doing."

The night stars have always appealed in love poetry just because the are distant and seems subtle. It's a whole big cosmic whirl to observe the lovers from a distance, instead of that old "saucy, pedantic wretch," the sun.

I, personally, might amend the third stanza slightly. I might excise the "my light for you, / hidden so deep in my body," because it doesn't present the hidden flame in a new way, and it feels a bit weaker than the rest because of that. I think it flows nicely without it, and it more powerful that way because it's more economical with the metaphor. Just a thought, no slight intended.

Best wishes and happy writing, friend.

[Marie Anzalone]

"They" say to write about what you know. I know the natural world, she is my home, my solace, my connection. I know her more intimately than any lover. Is it surprsing then, that when the confusion of the world of mankind overwhelms me, I head back to her and ask her to help me sort things out? Her nurturing is within us, her indifference is ours, her miracles present in our own lives. I get lost in buildings and on streets... my feet were made for walking in forests and my eyes for looking at the sky. So to her I return, even if it maybe is cliche sometimes. I promise to branch out LOL.

I did play with the stanza a bit. See if you think it is better now? Appreciate muchly the review, my friend.

[VennelaMargame]

I like the phrasing a little better now. Hope I'm not being too picky, these things just poke out at me when I see them.

Wallace Stevens (yes, him again) has a great poem called "Yellow Afternoon." It's a fairly esoteric meditation on a farmer standing in his field, considering why he loves the land so much. I never really experienced fully until one day it made me think of you. Excerpt:

It was in the earth only / that he was at the bottom of things / and of himself. There he could say / Of this I am this is the patriarch, / this it is that answers when I ask....He said I had this that I could love, / as one loves visible and responsive peace, / as one loves one's own being, / as one loves that which is the end / and must be loved, as one loves that / of which one is a part as in a unity...everything comes to him / from the middle of his field. The odor / of earth penetrates more deeply than any word. / There he touches his being...

It goes on like that, but I've recited too much of it here already. But I see a little bit of you and your inspiration in that poem.

[Verser]

Marie, I really like this poem-- a lot. What a moment, and it almost becomes an apocalyptic moment at that.

I wonder, do you have other poems that I could see?

www.VerseWrights.com

[Marie Anzalone]

Verser, I am truly appreciative of you reaching out, more than you can know. I have gotten so little positive reception, and have so much to juggle... had been seripously considering giving up my writing for a while. Your reaching out has provided renewed life and much-needed spirit. Thank you.

[Verser]

I am so glad. When it comes to writing, discouragement is a self-made enemy.

It is i who owe gratitude to you.

[michael.c.m]

You have a way with words. Images. A beautiful piece.

[Marie Anzalone]

thank you, Micheal. I was trying to weave with images in this one. It makes you happy you enjoyed that.

[Marie Anzalone]

*michael

[Ken Simm.]

Somehow I always knew they were over home and Orions belt pointed the way. It is not going too far to say you have grouped these words in the same way the stars are seen from this perspective ,together.

[Marie Anzalone]

The beautiful 7 Sisters are my second favorite constellation; the first being the Southern Cross, which I can also see from here but only on very clear nights towards dawn. And, if you get the reference, yes, she did help me "understand now why I came this way." Thanks for stopping by... I owe you some reviews, and have you marked. Been really busy the past week or so. I appreciate your words.

[Through the Gateway]

An absolutely exquisite love poem, Marie! The imagery is wonderful in its simplicity. I can feel your heart break and recombine with every moment you think on your love when he is not there. Wrapping yourself in the heavens and thinking only of the hunter that found you, but has yet to claim you.

Wonderful.

[Marie Anzalone]

I think that iat night n some places in the world, the veil between our "reality" and other realities thins so much we can experience some of the unknowable in small pieces... but we really only are allowed glimpses and fragments and sensations. Where I am is one such place, and this was borne of a small fragment that has been building for quite some time in intent and clarity. There is a reason the ancients looked first to the night sky for solace and warmth. She has ever been a source of wonder, recociliation, and connection for the separated. It is comforting to know that you can look at the sky 10 or 200 or 4000 miles away and know you both gaze upon the same patterns and light.

I thank you from the heart for reading what I know was a difficult piece for you. TQM.