Tongues

[Lykren]

Tongues of the sun come
curling up from the sea
and I have not forgotten
the wild bell, nor the horns
of night’s carcass.

The thorn comes and goes
like any other breeze, blind
to passion and indifferent.
A sufficient lack of wisdom
may task us to be careful,
do not anemones fold
in the winter wind and tide.

Are you not superstitious,
moving through light
fruitfully populated
by blossoms explosive
and arcane?

[virtuoso]

I love the title. The appendages of nature merged with the human accoutrements. We can learn from Nature's cycles and Nature's anomalies.

[Delta40]

I like this one. Especially S1. I don't know why but its obvious really but tongue immediately employs the senses!

[qimissung]

I really like the imagery in this one.

[blank|verse]

There's a disturbing undercurrent to this poem, Lykren. It raises issues of the violence of nature; of it being red in tooth and claw; but despite any lessons we could learn from nature - as is suggested by the second stanza - such logical conclusions will always be in conflict with the superstitious aspect of human behaviour.

The mention of the thorn puts me in mind of Wordsworth's poem of the same name, which recounts a superstitious tale; and the poem engages with Romantic issues, but without the reliance on archaic language or retreading the same observations or arguments that can hamstring other poets' attempts at something similar.

John Ashbery is said to be working in the Romantic lineage; the mention of 'explosive blossoms' reminds me of a line from the title poem from his latest book Quick Question: 'trees blossomed like shells exploding'. Ashbery's writing seems to be an influence on your own work, as well as Stevens as I've mentioned before...


Have it your way.

The world is ugly,
And the people are sad.

[Lykren]

Thanks all.

blank|verse, you are too kind. To be honest, I've only read a little of Ashbery's work, but I've loved what I've read; Meaningful Love and Wet Casements are my favorites of his. I mean to read more of him, when I finish the gargantuan (60,00 pages+) stack of novels I have on my list.

As for exploding blossoms, I got the idea from an art exhibit of photographs of flowers being dipped in liquid nitrogen and then blown up. It was quite spectacular.

Anyway, if anyone's interested I have a slight rewrite of this poem:

Tongues of the sun come
curling up off the sea
and I have not forgotten
the wild bell, nor the horns
of night’s carcass.

The thorn comes and goes
like any other breeze, blind
to passion and indifferent.
A sufficient lack of wisdom
may task us to be cautious -
do not anemones flower
and wrinkle in the winter tide?

Are you not superstitious,
moving through light
populated by blooms
explosive and arcane?