This is a piece I wrote nearly two years ago, whilst I explored sound. I’m posting it here because I want to.
Wrapped delicately in sun
we run windward
through whip-grass leg stinging fields.
We, youandme mud-thick slickshoe slide
downhill.
Rainscented hedges guide us
to the river edge
Cobble-bottomed rush-Gush torrent
C h I l L s our-nakedtoes squeeling
(heron stiltwalk watches)
from boulder……….to rock………. to bank……….to boulder and
…..back to bank…..
wet-skirted skin sticking wrappedcotton legs.
Dolorous darkCLOUDS
tumble over and over-each-other
fatly
granite
tipped from the heavens in a booming
hill-echo:
thunderrumble
(how many miles, how many? oneelephant twoelephant threeel…)
lightning – we-gasp
minnow silver-darting Quicksilver-Quick
to shadowbottom
riverbed.
Limbache of longing – our childhood Dartmoor
deluge me
I sweep myself away in this downpour
Wonderfully perfect, the sounds connect to the visual and the emotion and reading the poem is an experience of a piece of art most extraordinary and pinpoint perfect. You couldn’t get any closer to actually accompanying you on the ramble, in fact in a way it’s literal, reading the poem is accompanying you on the mind ramble because the poem is perfect and is perfectly you.
I kept skipping back because your words are so fluid that I don’t want to let my mind trick me by misinterpreting one. I say again, you are unique… you have a lot to inspire people and even more to invoke feelings they might otherwise forget. Wonderful stuff, xxx
here here i agree, wonderful work inspiring wonder – you have a gift a true gift
Wow! Transporting! and those CLOUDS! A brightshiney memory.
Thank you.
I remember this poem, my darling niece, back in the myspace, where is my connecticon gone days. I told you then it was perfectly wonderfully the thing which by reading your poetry and Narnie’s I realised. My goodness, it is possible to contain real magic in language. Not from my own because it so hard to hear your own voice. But this poem, Ebby is so beautiful beyond words into some thought place resurrection of a scene which contains life, breathing, thinking, feeling, so beautifully preserved in language. You are simple fabulous and I owe you a good part of anything that ever appears in my work that you like.
Sorry, that should have been a private mail, button pushing error, excessive tiggerishness. Sorry,
bounces are most welcome here
Boing boing. Hello,
[...] immediately assume that T. S. (to his mates) is a better poet than Ebby because he is so famous and Ebby is a blogger. A moments thought should reveal that to be entirely illogical. Fame is no guarantee to [...]
Amazing. As Paul said “reading the poem is accompanying you on the mind ramble”. I felt like I was there.
this is such an ‘alive’ poem, excellent
That was beautiful and alive
! Loved it!