PoetryPix
depictions by the rule of thirds; descriptions mostly freestyle words
Islands of the blest
“Night comes, an angel stands
Measuring out the time of stars,
Still are the winds, and still the hours…
countdown, just as the beetle’s watch
ticks across these draughty rafters
the roof lifted skyward, with another notch
scored into honeycombed hereafters
dreams envision, marble rolls aside
along star trails we move rapidly with closed eyes
firing after comets, and wish-fulfilling waysigns
in the muffled passages of sleep, some are contrite
others calcitrate in protest at vestigial wings
and the way four forbidding angels disbar the winds of flight
raising a grain on the handiwork of our undoing
night is gritty; for these timely specks of sand
to wash up on the islands of the blest
we must prepare, and go down under first
title and opening lines taken from Kathleen Raine’s “Nocturne” – and there is still time to venture into the imaginary garden for Tuesday’s Platform
21 Comments on “Islands of the blest”
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Very atmospheric.
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soared into the ethereal here!
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Love “honeycombed hereafters”….
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all holes left in our history – thank you!
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‘in the muffled passages of sleep, some are contrite others calcitrate in protest at vestigial wings’.. this is so potent!💖
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found a new verb there Sanaa 🙂
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To go down, perchance to dream — I love this invitation to voyage.
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could even be the final voyage Brendan and the invitation cannot be refused 😉
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‘four forbidding angels disbar the winds of flight
raising a grain on the handiwork of our undoing
night is gritty; for these timely specks of sand
to wash up on the islands of the blest
we must prepare, and go down under first’
I love the space-feel of this beautiful piece.
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that’s a lovely observation – thank-you!
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It reads like a chant or guided meditation. Especially that last lines, which feel like a breath after being under water for a while…
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Great observation Magaly – Raine’s poems have that spiritual touch & I have aimed to keep faith with the spirit of her poem
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Somehow I feel a fear of dreaming…. we never know were it leads us…
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Or even if we will awake!
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“scored into honeycombed hereafters” Oh I love that line…there is a mystical beauty to your poem
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What a lovely comment – thank you Susie
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the death beetle tick-tick-ticking …. far more foreboding than the sound of an annoying clock ….. to sleep, to dream – perchance to walk along the stars – to to be carried away with angel wings … whose is ever to say or know ….
highly atmospheric piece Laura 🙂
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You picked up on the beetle – and I like where it took your comment – many thanks
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I’m always enthralled with ideas of the death beetle …. I’m glad you chose it, or it chose you, for you piece …. allowed me to then slip into the rest …. which is still dancing in my head 🙂
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Oh, wow. This poem is wonderful! The rhyme scheme is just great, and “draughty rafters” hosting beetles really got me. 🙂
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and wow to you Marian for such appreciative words
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