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Hitting the Mark
"My barn havingburned to the ground, I can see the moon."~ old Chinese proverb
In the whole bigfield of bluethe sun hitsthe bull’s-eye moon.
Down heremy face’s albedomimics somethinglike it in return.
Night by nightturn after turnthe arrow lightfinds its mark
and like a climbing,stumbling goatI aim my hornthis way and that
to snag that lightin flight. Maybeone long andmaundering day
from here, whenthey open the gatefor home, the sunwill put up his
arrows, the moonher shield, I my bow-shaped horn, and we'lldissolve in sleep.
Until then I'll jumpthe fence and like that oldcow make a sceneover the moon.
March 2012
Painting: "Not far from the sun, moon and the stars" by Jean Arp
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13 comments:
Oh, I like this. It really does hit the mark. Good the weaving of all the elements near the end, and the surprising last verse.
Lovely to find this so early in the morning when the moon has just set and the sun's about to rise.
One of my favorite quotes to lead in to a subtle and mysterious poem, as mysterious as the heavenly bodies in their courses so busy and oblivious and spendthrift with their beauty. The human perspective on the celestial theatrics is what makes this tick like a well tuned engine.
The "art and design" tag is indicative, because this is a different foray for you, proceeding with abstraction and arrangement of a scene rather than a need to be intimate and plush with it. One finds a middle altitude reading this, a territory of observation, a key in the poetic round of fifths that is keenly surficial and meaningful to the eye: one doesn't get as emotionally involved as aethetically, savoring this certain way into the blue fields of moonlight, what lights we see by and how we try to make it our own. I think. Some interesting stretches for you in this and the last poem. Hope Spring is lavishing these fresh energies on you ... Brendan
Thanks, Robert. Poems can be flighty, and one can never be quite sure what works for a reader.
The Broad, it took me a moment or two to remember that you are in UK. :-) Thank you.
Hedge, the old proverb is such an opening, isn't it? Thank you for your attentiveness to the little cosmos of my poem, and for your kind reflections.
Brendan, thanks for your thoughtful observations of this piece. Truth be told, it's been harder to dive into the soul territory lately, and so maybe that's what's behind the difference you sense in these last couple of poems. The rare glimpses are deep and dense, but nudging them out into words is far more work, which can sometimes feel less mysterious and miraculous. But whether water is made into wine in a minute, or over months, it's still a miracle of expression (as CS Lewis observed). (I'm not saying this poem is a miracle, I think you know.)
You have indeed made a scene over the moon, and a beautiful one at that. Wonderfully written, Ruth, with great imagery. (Just returned from L.A., where the new granddaughter, Farrah Jane, was born a couple of days ago. All is well with everyone.)
Welcome back, George! I missed you and contemplated your newest family member often, wondering how everyone fared. I am happy to welcome baby Farrah Jane and to know that all is well! Thank you for your kind comment, my friend.
This is beautiful and speaks to my sleeplessness. I am becoming well acquainted with the moon...
Thanks, Pauline, though I'm sorry to hear about your sleeplessness. Even one as beautiful as the moon has been this week can get tiresome on such nights.
The proverb and your poem both turn a positive "light'" on the moon. There will be plenty of time for sleep.
Thanks, Barb. Sounds like you might not be sleeping well. :( I hope that improves.
Oh-Oh-Oh, Ruth. This is delightful!
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