06-11-2014, 08:12 AM
Cicada summer
At dawn they wake,
struggle up through the earth,
emerge into the light
exhausted, clinging helplessly.
Thousands have moved as one.
Twigs and reeds sag under the weight
of larva clustered like fruit.
Their shells darken and split,
reveal glittering black gargoyles
with red pinhead eyes who crawl free
leaving skins like shucked gloves.
Wings unfold, pump,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins - calling,
they reproduce their pain:
agony of light, helplessness,
ruptured skin, birth shock,
consciousness, loneliness,
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine.
Disguised inside that serenade,
drifting in and out of focus;
the voice of a faint angelic choir
like the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
#3 Edit
At dawn they escape.
After seventeen years underground
they struggle blindly up through soil
into the light, exhausted,
climbing, clinging helplessly.
Thousand have moved as one.
Twigs and reeds sag under the weight
of larva in clusters, an alien fruit.
Their shells darken and split,
reveal glittering black gargoyles
with red pinhead eyes who crawl free
leaving empty skins like shucked gloves.
Thumb-sized wings pump,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins - calling for a mate
they reproduce their pain:
agony of first light, helplessness,
ruptured skin, birth shock,
consciousness, loneliness
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine.
Disguised inside that serenade
drifting in and out of focus
a faint ecstatic choir
like the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
#2 Edit
At dawn they escape
seventeen years underground
climb up into light so bright
they can only cling helplessly.
Twigs and reeds sag under their weight,
pendulate, paused while their shells
darken and split, revealing
glittering black gargoyles with
red pinhead eyes. They crawl free
leaving husks like shucked gloves.
Thumb-sized wings pump,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins - before flying
they reproduce their pain:
agony of first light, struggle
to change, ruptured skin,
birth shock, stretching wings -
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine.
Disguised inside that alien finale
coming and going like radio waves
you can hear a faint ecstatic choir
like the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
This is another I've worked on for so long I can't see it any more - any help would be appreciated.
#1 edit
Underground
for seventeen years they waited;
this dawn they escape.
As the sky lightens they climb,
cling to tree trunks, branches, twigs;
reeds bend under their weight.
Their pallid skins darken
then split, to reveal black gargoyles
with red pinhead eyes. Crawling free,
they leave ghostly husks behind.
Thumb-sized wings pump up,
stretch and set. Then the din begins:
first painful light, struggle to climb,
ruptured skin, birth shock,
the urge to mate, do it again,
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine. Within
that alien orchestration you can hear
the faint mechanical chant of a choir –
the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
Underground
for seventeen years
they grew and waited;
this dawn they escape.
As light strengthens
they climb high, cling
to tree trunks, branches, twigs;
reeds bend under their weight.
Their creamy skins darken,
split, reveal black gargoyles with
glassy red pinhead eyes. Crawling,
they leave their husks behind. Crinkled
thumb-sized wings pump up,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins: first painful light,
struggle to climb, torment of split skin,
birth shock, the urge to mate, do it again,
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine. Within
that alien orchestration you can hear
the faint mechanical chant of a choir –
the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so terrified you as a child.
At dawn they wake,
struggle up through the earth,
emerge into the light
exhausted, clinging helplessly.
Thousands have moved as one.
Twigs and reeds sag under the weight
of larva clustered like fruit.
Their shells darken and split,
reveal glittering black gargoyles
with red pinhead eyes who crawl free
leaving skins like shucked gloves.
Wings unfold, pump,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins - calling,
they reproduce their pain:
agony of light, helplessness,
ruptured skin, birth shock,
consciousness, loneliness,
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine.
Disguised inside that serenade,
drifting in and out of focus;
the voice of a faint angelic choir
like the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
#3 Edit
At dawn they escape.
After seventeen years underground
they struggle blindly up through soil
into the light, exhausted,
climbing, clinging helplessly.
Thousand have moved as one.
Twigs and reeds sag under the weight
of larva in clusters, an alien fruit.
Their shells darken and split,
reveal glittering black gargoyles
with red pinhead eyes who crawl free
leaving empty skins like shucked gloves.
Thumb-sized wings pump,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins - calling for a mate
they reproduce their pain:
agony of first light, helplessness,
ruptured skin, birth shock,
consciousness, loneliness
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine.
Disguised inside that serenade
drifting in and out of focus
a faint ecstatic choir
like the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
#2 Edit
At dawn they escape
seventeen years underground
climb up into light so bright
they can only cling helplessly.
Twigs and reeds sag under their weight,
pendulate, paused while their shells
darken and split, revealing
glittering black gargoyles with
red pinhead eyes. They crawl free
leaving husks like shucked gloves.
Thumb-sized wings pump,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins - before flying
they reproduce their pain:
agony of first light, struggle
to change, ruptured skin,
birth shock, stretching wings -
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine.
Disguised inside that alien finale
coming and going like radio waves
you can hear a faint ecstatic choir
like the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
This is another I've worked on for so long I can't see it any more - any help would be appreciated.
#1 edit
Underground
for seventeen years they waited;
this dawn they escape.
As the sky lightens they climb,
cling to tree trunks, branches, twigs;
reeds bend under their weight.
Their pallid skins darken
then split, to reveal black gargoyles
with red pinhead eyes. Crawling free,
they leave ghostly husks behind.
Thumb-sized wings pump up,
stretch and set. Then the din begins:
first painful light, struggle to climb,
ruptured skin, birth shock,
the urge to mate, do it again,
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine. Within
that alien orchestration you can hear
the faint mechanical chant of a choir –
the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so frightened you as a child.
Underground
for seventeen years
they grew and waited;
this dawn they escape.
As light strengthens
they climb high, cling
to tree trunks, branches, twigs;
reeds bend under their weight.
Their creamy skins darken,
split, reveal black gargoyles with
glassy red pinhead eyes. Crawling,
they leave their husks behind. Crinkled
thumb-sized wings pump up,
stretch and set. Then
the din begins: first painful light,
struggle to climb, torment of split skin,
birth shock, the urge to mate, do it again,
all given voice until the air shakes
and shrieks like an unoiled machine. Within
that alien orchestration you can hear
the faint mechanical chant of a choir –
the one in St. Augustine’s cathedral
that so terrified you as a child.