deepundergroundpoetry.com
cortinas
Published 11th Mar 2021
Author's Note
Reworked fields-broke poem
after the rats' nests when the dogs can rest,
below your boots worn ledgered and tight.
Sown to the ankle, ripped down to the bud.
Down to a hare's view
in their night mare.
We cleared the woods...the fields are nought but haugh
the draining ditches are clean and free
out from the noon and peacocks 'sun
(in from the lust of the moon,
a whole white calf
half life/death, a quarter glance of fingernail light)
in silver ponds
the frail spring sun holds pale comparison
in apple green
council estates
we cling to the hedges and cliffs
may-friends renew their roofs in paw ellubiance of moss
growing on a black foxes back.
We have no heather for sport.
nor long leather arms
or foresight when it is cold
after the rats' nests when the dogs can rest,
below your boots worn ledgered and tight.
Sown to the ankle, ripped down to the bud.
Down to a hare's view
in their night mare.
We cleared the woods...the fields are nought but haugh
the draining ditches are clean and free
out from the noon and peacocks 'sun
(in from the lust of the moon,
a whole white calf
half life/death, a quarter glance of fingernail light)
in silver ponds
the frail spring sun holds pale comparison
in apple green
council estates
we cling to the hedges and cliffs
may-friends renew their roofs in paw ellubiance of moss
growing on a black foxes back.
We have no heather for sport.
nor long leather arms
or foresight when it is cold
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likes 12
reading list entries 9
comments 8
reads 589
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11th Mar 2021 8:55pm
13th Mar 2021 8:10pm
Anonymous
- Edited 9th Apr 2022 5:45am
11th Mar 2021 9:38pm
<< post removed >>
11th Mar 2021 9:59pm
Epic piece of art. As a bizarre aside (well, it involves Yorkshire) was discussing "the rhubarb triangle" with an elderly relative last week! Strange times. Excellent threading of words. Rob
13th Mar 2021 8:15pm
Thanks Rob. You reminded me of the time when we used to go out with a bag of sugar and knick our neighbours rhubarb and gooseberries, two of the tartest foods ever and dip them in the bag. .
12th Mar 2021 5:38pm
war, industrialism, and a touch of the old ways.
i loved the image of the white calf
i loved the image of the white calf
13th Mar 2021 8:18pm
Thanks so much anna.
The calf and the moon are always in my minds eye for some reason. will have to research that.
The calf and the moon are always in my minds eye for some reason. will have to research that.
14th Mar 2021 5:01pm
Interestingly enough the white calf under the white moon was the stand out image for me as well, so crisp, stark and naked, something achingly mortal in silent presence. Beginning with the title, the webbing of a cortina, it brings us into this natural magnification of detail, the structures of life. Your opening stanza has a kind of natural savagery about it that is grabbing. Your second stanza reminds me of cultivating, intrusive presence of man in nature, something that holds both beauty and terror about it. Your close has a sense of the resignation of the cycles and morays of human life, so close and yet removed from our natural environment. I am probably missing a lot but I feel so much beneath the gorgeous choices of wording. Your art is masterful in presence, depth and eloquence.
