Hi Arthur,
I keep smiling when I read this...
And I'm intruiged by the tulips! They must have significance - but I don't
know what they infer...
It's a fine loud poem - but (a small but, but a but none the less!) I'm not
happy with the word "vale" - sounds like a poeticism to me... (OK, I know
it's sounds are echoes loudly in the next line - but that echo's highlighted
too much IMO! It makes "vale" sound even more poetick!
And "the perfume of the garden..." There was a book called The Perfumed
Garden, a kind of Karma Sutra kind of book. I don't know if anyone else has
heard of it? I'm certainly reminded of it!
Bob

>From: Arthur Seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New Sub: Evocation.
>Date: Wed, 22 Dec 2004 08:33:17 -0000
>
>Happy Solstice to all you pagans out there. Arthur.
>
>Evocation
>
>
>
>
>
>Fingers traced the wedge-pocked clay,
>
>lips shaped the passing words:
>
>
>
>"Beloved mother, hear me.
>
>My blind eyes ache
>
>to see again the rose unfold,
>
>the swallows carve summer
>
>out of the golden air above the fields,
>
>light dance across the Mother of all rivers,
>
>the lion shake his ragged mane."
>
>
>
>"Hear me, Ishtar, morning and evening star,
>
>my stopped ears yearn
>
>for the song of frogs before rain,
>
>the stir of crickets in the grass,
>
>the sneeze of cymbals at the temple gate,
>
>the ululations of mourners and the bells at birth,
>
>ought but this swarming silence
>
>and the stones heavy upon me."
>
>
>
>"Call me into the vale again,
>
>assail me with life and sorrow,
>
>bring me to pain and breath,
>
>the inseparables.
>
>Call me into the perfumes of the garden,
>
>to know again the kiss of silk and sand,
>
>the sweetness of pomegranates,
>
>the fires of wine, the rages of love.
>
>Grant me this
>
>and I will sing you hymns
>
>to tumble stars."
>
>
>
>He drew the cloth over the tablet,
>
>covered the rippled wedges of cuneiform.
>
>The low winter sun shone long through the great windows,
>
>flared along the polished tables, chairs and floor.
>
>
>
>Deep in the cold earth
>
>a tulip quickened.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>