Birds in a Landscape of Air

[Il Penseroso]

Birds awaken from his sleeve
alive and fluttering
in a breeze,
beating strength against
his feathered chest.

At each stage of soaring
a lens is built to shear the air,
the glass refraction of an eye
clears raw pulsing clouds,
and shapeless a storm of air
bent by flapping wings
traces fleeting symbols
in lines across the sky.

The mirrored waves
struck by light combust
in shapes that spread
a drizzled spray,
land is reached by feathered
hands, plying currents
from the day.

[symphony]

My! Shockingly good imagery! Cant help admiring this!

By the way, is this a poem for the former pic in the picture poetry contest, (the pic given by Pendragon i mean)?

Anyway it's a brilliant one. I'm speechless.

[Il Penseroso]

Thanks symphony. It was inspired by the previous picture poetry contest. I never got around to finishing it in time for the deadline, so I expanded a bit and here it is. I'm glad you liked it, although I'm a little worried about how it stands alone without that picture. I appreciate the comment though.

[jon1jt]

IP: you know i'm a big fan of imagery and this poem is quite dazzling. overall, i really like it. it was a real treat to read as i don't often see new poems with the imagery you have here. cool. :)

just some random thoughts: the first stanza stands out; it blows opens the landscape (or skyscape) for what's to come. absolutely brilliant.

S2 sort of peters out for me. perhaps it's the verb use (see below). L6/7 need some smoothing, a transition, something. i "get" the "fleeting symbols" wthout you having to state the "lines" in the line below it.
perhaps that's the kink for me, i'm not sure.

also, i don't think you need "is" ---"a lens built to shear..." totally works.

At each stage of soaring
a lens is built to shear the air,
the glass refraction of an eye
clears raw pulsing clouds,
and shapeless a storm of air
bent by flapping wings
traces fleeting symbols
in lines across the sky

last stanza. i think by getting rid of those words bracketed you'd open it up some---or even consider expanding the lines. the piece as a whole is a bit tightly-wound, just a little. at the same time, i realize it's a short poem, so doubling lines is probably impractical.

The mirrored waves
struck by light combust
[in] shapes [that] spread
a drizzled spray,
land [is] reached by feathered
hands, plying currents
from the day.


thanks again. :)

[Il Penseroso]

Hmm, strange, the first stanza's the one I spent the least time on, and therefore didn't like as much. To me "clears raw pulsing clouds" phonetically is the most jointed, but I like it best for meaning.

Expand I could do sometime, but taking those words out would completely jumble it for me. Thanks jon for the thought.

[Riesa]

Birds awaken from his sleeve
alive and fluttering
what a great first line...I'm immediately entranced by this image, da da, daliesque? I love how it transports me outside of reality.




in a breeze,
beating strength against
his feathered chest.

I haven't seen the image that this poem is about, but I'm enjoying the idea of a sleeve wearing feathered birdman? :) see, I'm easily confused.





At each stage of soaring
a lens is built to shear the air,
the glass refraction of an eye
clears raw pulsing clouds,
and shapeless a storm of air
bent by flapping wings
traces fleeting symbols
in lines across the sky.

I like this, I like raw pulsing clouds, and shapeless a storm or air bent...

but, goes from shapeless to bent? this is so cosmic, hard to grasp, metaphysical I guess. to me anyway, I like that.

but I'm a little lost on which is doing the tracing :rolleyes: a storm of air traces or wings trace?




The mirrored waves
struck by light combust
in shapes that spread
a drizzled spray,
land is reached by feathered
hands, plying currents
from the day.

enjoyed the flow and imagery of this one the most of the three.


The mirrored waves
struck by light combust
in shapes that spread
a drizzled spray,

especially this...beautiful.

this kept reminding me of The Crane Wife by the Decemberists have you heard it?




Each feather it fell from skin
'Till thread bare and she grew thin
How were my eyes so blinded?
Each feather it fell from skin

maybe just the birdman image. :p

nice poem, IP...keep 'em coming.

[Virgil]

Wow Pensero, this is an outstanding poem. I agree pretty much with the suggestons jon makes. This really really grabs me:

At each stage of soaring
a lens is built to shear the air,
the glass refraction of an eye
clears raw pulsing clouds,

I love the use of the word "shear" here.

[blp]

I really love its oddness, which is strongest in S1 and 2. 3 does seem a little weaker. Think you could persevere for a strong finish.

[Bii]

Well, all I can say is WOW! What a beautiful transfixing poem. Loved the 'raw, pulsing clouds' and, well, all the rest of the imagery actually.

[Il Penseroso]

Riesa,
thanks for replying. To be honest I'm a little unsure myself of which is doing what, as it appears, at the end of that stanza. :) The storm of air was meant to do the tracing/trailing a flock of faraway birds (the fleeting symbols) and lines across the sky, which is what the storm becomes too. I suppose.

Virgil,
Thanks, those are probably the lines I like best too. I appreciate the read.

blp,
That oddness on this one can be somewhat attributed to the picture. I like surreal type paintings to inspire poems, they make it easier to use one's imagination and stear clear of cliches. Thanks for reading.

Bii,
I'm glad you liked it, thanks for commenting.