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In the green creek

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  • In the green creek

    The file of engines gunned by fever,
    from sewer to saviour the twitching plans,
    the vector's reign in tower and gutter,
    the leering at mother, the fume of man,
    the longing kneel to fear, the cattled other
    - clouds of a blown sunset, bloody with sand.
    Before the shunted moment, and forever,
    this white-faced heron warden angling stands
    in the green creek slaking the mangrove summer.
    Last edited by grant hayes; 08-12-2018, 03:18 AM.

  • #2
    Nice, rhymes, been over this a few times - and only after beginning to analyze do I notice the 'structure'/rhymes. Interesting sensations and textures thrown together, other than that. Has a quality of "framing" again the moment (used that a few times lately). Bloody with sand seems important to the rest, the general meaning.
    Contemplative, nice.

    Cool little ending. The poem grew on me, layer by layer. Thanks for sharing, Grant!

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      Ostensibly, 'bloody with sand' refers to the way airborne grit makes sunsets particularly rufous.

      The first five lines are an attempt to encapsulate human endeavour and behaviour - big picture - in a very condensed way. All of that is like blood-red clouds being blown away at the end of day. I set that vast ephemerality against the simple image of a heron in the creek water - a scene that would have existed before any humans, and will remain/return after they are gone.

      Thankya for reading and sharing your typically insightful response.

    • amenOra
      amenOra commented
      Editing a comment
      O I really love that image even more. I kinda have a thing with the "night", it's been a troubling time lately, and that image fits perfect.
      The human mind will do its best to kick up murk, much different from, like you said, the contrasting images/juxtaposition of this poem ... well done!

  • #3
    Senses engaged - I like that. Nice job!

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      Thank you, Rhymist!

  • #4
    You always give so much to think about! Dust precipitating the colors of sunset, the meaning of life without humans to contemplate it...
    A pleasure to read!

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      A pleasure to know that you have thought much, lunar glide

  • #5
    I read this and am always saddened that trees and some animals live so much longer than humans. Your poem touched me that way as someone making a deeply felt observation.

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      I hear what you're saying, Alexandra. As is often the case, this piece is a pretty direct representation of a moment I lived. I was crossing a roadbridge over a wide creek, near where I live. I stopped to watch a heron as it patiently scanned the water for food. Behind me was an unending stream of traffic - people pursuing this or that aim, people who have been in the land only a short time, really. It occurred to me that the heron and creek would have been there before any people had come to the area, and would still be there when they had all passed on. Not a particularly remarkable insight, but one I tried to capture in the intensity I felt, in that moment.
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