Virtual Meeting May 2012 Poem #2

5/21/2012

Balancing act

We step across wide water,
taking our time. Breathing:
it’s taken most of our life.
You shout and I can’t look back.

Water dark as guinness –
what made us think we could risk it?

Out here in the middle
the river fizzes faster.
Too late to turn back.
Green rocks now,
lank weed stranded,
every one a slippery stretch
and the far bank receding.

Alone together, balancing,
too far apart to clasp.

Lyn Browne

4 Comments

Judy link

5/21/2012 07:10:45 am

Hi Lyn

Super poem, marrying the literal with the metaphorical — very clever. Sparse, yet evocative.

The last two lines are very powerful. Anyone in a longterm relationship must feel this, but can't express it as lucidly as you have.

And of course one can read it simply in the literal sense and enjoy the visual imagery.

Judy

Dee

5/31/2012 10:30:28 am

Hello Lyn,

Isn't this a great idea?! You don't seem so far away- I felt I was out on Dartmoor hiking over that rugged landscape when I was reading your poem. I love the double meaning too. Don't change anything.
Dee

Brad Drew

6/2/2012 11:38:20 am

Hi Lyn
I think Judy summed this up beautifully before I even read it and it's hard to go beyond that.
It's a powerful and very effective piece of work and it's impossible to read/hear it without being conscious of the metaphorical underlying the literal – nay, the literal is incidental to the metaphorical, which is the core of power in the piece and I'm sure many could say it's a poem about everyman/couple.
Well done. Brad

susie faint

2/5/2013 04:53:18 pm

hunting bears

I've looked beneath her pillow
felt for lumps inside the sheets
between the mattress and quilt she kicks
to the end when fast asleep

of course I've checked the toy box
a hundred times or more
beneath the rumpled bath mat...
behind the bedroom door

I've checked inside her pillow slip
all her little ports and bags
'cos she likes to stuff him into things
you'd never dream he'd fit

now, don't forget the staircase
up, down and underneath because
that is a fancy hiding place...
a lair where bears would meet

we must not give in to panic
though I know enough to swear
we cannot dream of bed-time
without her precious bear...

oh, Anthony, you are clever...
we really should have guessed
she's jammed him in your bait box
top that, to hide a bear!

Susie Faint

christmas in july

light was merely peeping
when I crept from our camp leaving
all others quietly sleeping - not a word

the lapping of not distant tide had called
to paths I hoped would wind
to the solitude I wished to find
on the brink of an indian sea -
where imagery of exotic lands
markets, spice, and desert sand
and language I might never hear
could sing their songs to me

but on that path of powder red
in silence, the unexpected stood
on watch for barefoot passing -
aftermath of fire -

black, skeletal, wattle scrub
grass blades burnt to ground
clean scent of ash and char

and yet,
the legacy of night and sea
shrouded every crow-black tree
in dimensions of translucency -
glistering salt in mist

and to every stick and crevassed root
to every blackened limb
countless webs so fine were strung
spun with dew in rising sun

and all of this a gift to me -
white christmas by an indian sea

Susie Faint

Virtual Meeting May 2012 Poem #2

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