deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Heavy Lightness of Water
Each swig of solitude
A breath less from death,
Drinking to absent friends
One day the bottle will rise to me.
Summer is now a tourist:
A buckled deck chair rehearses its return
Crumpled against shadows of the palest sun.
Cathedrals of veiled water fall as weeping brides.
On other side of the village
The Luftwaffe unloaded lonely bomb,
Crater housed Gods of still small voices –
Until they built a car park.
Touring a Monastic and Mauna museum
Vowed to hang silence on souvenir walls,
Further awash, axe head in the river’s silver
Hear hammer thunder in the flood.
Imagination hovers, aimless as
Swallows nesting on a satellite.
My foot breaks bracken, SNAP -
Skin of earth’s timpani stretches.
Seduced by naked allure of her stare
An afternoon affair with the woman in white.
Faithful to her kith, kin and centuries wise,
I return to stoned ghosts and rattling noise.
A breath less from death,
Drinking to absent friends
One day the bottle will rise to me.
Summer is now a tourist:
A buckled deck chair rehearses its return
Crumpled against shadows of the palest sun.
Cathedrals of veiled water fall as weeping brides.
On other side of the village
The Luftwaffe unloaded lonely bomb,
Crater housed Gods of still small voices –
Until they built a car park.
Touring a Monastic and Mauna museum
Vowed to hang silence on souvenir walls,
Further awash, axe head in the river’s silver
Hear hammer thunder in the flood.
Imagination hovers, aimless as
Swallows nesting on a satellite.
My foot breaks bracken, SNAP -
Skin of earth’s timpani stretches.
Seduced by naked allure of her stare
An afternoon affair with the woman in white.
Faithful to her kith, kin and centuries wise,
I return to stoned ghosts and rattling noise.
Published 31st Dec 2022
Author's Note
ERULGCT 177. Pic. Dyserth Falls. My place. Hardly Niagara or Victoria, but for, say a mouse, it's a hell of a drop. Sounds of Silence Challenge.
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likes 8
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comments 10
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The author encourages honest critique.
31st Dec 2022 10:22pm
There’s a haunted natural atmosphere to this that’s just exquisite. Grammatical note: should it be either “a lonely bomb” or “bombs”?
1st Jan 2023 10:39am
Many thanks Mr R. There's been much reflection of late and as is usually the way, hauntings come.
The Luft would often drop a solitary bomb over N Wales to lighten their return journey to Germany. I was going for 'l' alliteration to try and replicate the 'LL' Welsh pronunciation.
The Luft would often drop a solitary bomb over N Wales to lighten their return journey to Germany. I was going for 'l' alliteration to try and replicate the 'LL' Welsh pronunciation.
1st Jan 2023 00:31am
I won't pretend to comprehend the whole of this. But I will note the excellence of lines and imagery that built it. It's a novel on a page.
Excellent.
Excellent.
1st Jan 2023 10:42am
Many thanks Styx. Intend to move away a little bit from poetry in 2023, but it will probably be a case of the best laid plans of mice & men.... Appreciate your encouragement, Happy New Year too.
1st Jan 2023 4:03am
To be haunted is to have left breath and scent through the corridors of living. It's a beautiful melancholy, a flower that is sweet with decay. I love the unfolding of this, the presence of absence, a lacuna coil that takes an intimate awareness.
Happy New Year my friend. May the coming year bring you everything that makes you feel alive.
Happy New Year my friend. May the coming year bring you everything that makes you feel alive.
1st Jan 2023 10:45am
Many thanks my friend. It was a strange year in many respects. Your continued support, encouragement & insight has been truly appreciated. May 2023 bring much peace, relaxation and poetry. Rob
3rd Jan 2023 9:09am
Wob, dear one, where ever you lay your poetic hat that is a home. Meaning you have skillfully woven the structures of water. I heard the voices of morning and in some ways of mourning. Most likely my own reflections. Your poem made me think of how people often say they see water when asked of memories. How water can have an almost photographic effect on us. We all flow sometimes!
May 2023 be all you wish for!
Rianne
May 2023 be all you wish for!
Rianne
3rd Jan 2023 12:15pm
Many thanks R. Best wishes are reciprocated too.
We are the sea. It offers much contemplation. Toying with the idea of 3 large coastal walks in the next two years. Best get my walking boots ready.
We are the sea. It offers much contemplation. Toying with the idea of 3 large coastal walks in the next two years. Best get my walking boots ready.
3rd Jan 2023 6:32pm
Dyserth Falls is gorgeous, so peaceful. It doesn't need to be over 300 feet high or
even 2000 to make me wet. I will take this place of peaceful solitude, breath less
and so desperate for you to rise into me. I don't need the summer heat, just yours.
Fold up the buckled chair and just lay with me. Because you know I belong in the shadows.
The moon is the palest sun and I belong bathing in it's eerie glow, casting reflections.
A weeping bride so wet, cathedrals of veiled water ever flowing between, opening me...
You are my tourist, traveling inside of me. You find yourself there, I find you there.
My holy water freely flowing upon the spires of you, this cathedral I need so much.
This explosion inside on the other side of my soul. This lonely bomb exploding in me.
You have become a God. My parking ticket, you read my plates and open the gate.
But you will never allow me to leave this Monastic an Mauna museum. Your new exhibit.
You hang my moans on your wall as souvenirs. Your axe head buried in the river's silver.
Thor's hammer, forging my body again and again so brutally. Thunder causing a flood.
Stretching me, ready to receive your divine transmission and you will always find me.
Breaking my imagination, seduced by my naked allure calling you down from heaven,
into my Hell. So innocent, so depraved, and always ready to be defiled by a God.
even 2000 to make me wet. I will take this place of peaceful solitude, breath less
and so desperate for you to rise into me. I don't need the summer heat, just yours.
Fold up the buckled chair and just lay with me. Because you know I belong in the shadows.
The moon is the palest sun and I belong bathing in it's eerie glow, casting reflections.
A weeping bride so wet, cathedrals of veiled water ever flowing between, opening me...
You are my tourist, traveling inside of me. You find yourself there, I find you there.
My holy water freely flowing upon the spires of you, this cathedral I need so much.
This explosion inside on the other side of my soul. This lonely bomb exploding in me.
You have become a God. My parking ticket, you read my plates and open the gate.
But you will never allow me to leave this Monastic an Mauna museum. Your new exhibit.
You hang my moans on your wall as souvenirs. Your axe head buried in the river's silver.
Thor's hammer, forging my body again and again so brutally. Thunder causing a flood.
Stretching me, ready to receive your divine transmission and you will always find me.
Breaking my imagination, seduced by my naked allure calling you down from heaven,
into my Hell. So innocent, so depraved, and always ready to be defiled by a God.
3rd Jan 2023 9:25pm
Your unique take is always a delight. The parking ticket made me laugh out loud like a hyena on drugs. Think I may have been born in a waterfall or on a capsized ship. We are water. Drenched and at the beautiful mercy of Sirens. Diolch yn fawr.
