The Sunspots I Envy
#1
[b]The Sunspots I Envy[/b]

[font=georgia]O courier of the baneful night,

Must you enslave, suppress the tints
and stash day's salience out of spite
to drape a pall o’er twilight’s flint?
You slash to streams the glabrous sun
You best each sky, but cede the morn
The coup of birdsong swells to stun
Your onyx czars that fade, forlorn.

The salve of dawn will shimmer slight,
Within the jagged shadow loom
of sunstreaks stifled, their laked light
leaks sun mosaics through oak booms.
What splendid augur Spring divines-
The seams shot through the wedded wood
infract buds crowning braided vines,
To push the pleated bulbs to hoods.

From westward whim a gale twirls lone,
perturbs the ungrazed pasture strands
The hapless reeds twitch, then lay combed
Stripped seedlings sow stalks, borne again
Unlike this soul, whose meandering stem
Diffuses not one sprightly clone!
Pleased would I field my merriment
But I must face this dearth alone.

Still I have watched each birthing day
expire the pristine, nascent tense
of morn- Congealing this array
would nurture long the famished sense!
To salve my stricken countenance,
I care not how communion stirs,
By life ascetic’s ply and grant,
By Sage’s scry, or Gnostic nerve.

Deface myself, I’d overthrow
All epistemic slant, ego
[/font]
Reply
#2
[font=georgia]Oh courier of the baneful night,                       I'd use simply "O", Oh is a less emphatic form I think[/font]
Must you enslave, suppress the tints
and stash day's salience out of spite
to drape a pall o’er twilight’s flint?
You slash to streams the glabrous sun
You best each sky, but cede the morn
The coup of birdsong swells to stun
Your onyx czars that fade, forlorn.

The salve of dawn will shimmer slight,
Within the jagged shadow loom
of sunstreaks stifled, their laked light                   You used this phrase in one of the other poems
leaks sun mosaics through oak booms.
What splendid augur Spring divines-
The seams shot through the wedded wood
infract buds crowning braided vines,
To push the pleated bulbs to hoods.

From westward whim a gale twirls lone,
perturbs the non-grazed pasture strands           ungrazed?
The hapless reeds twitch, then lay combed
Stripped seedlings sow stalks, borne again
Unlike this soul, whose meandering stem
Diffuses not one sprightly clone!
Pleased would I field my merriment
But I must face this dearth alone.

Still I have watched each birthing day
expire the pristine, nascent tense                  I don't think expire works....you can't expire something...maybe expend?
of morn- Congealing this array
would nurture long the famished sense!
To salve my stricken countenance,
I care not how communion stirs,
By life ascetic’s ply and grant,                       "By life's ascetic......"
By Sage’s scry, or Gnostic nerve.

Deface myself, I’d overthrow
All epistemic slant, ego                                 add another "all" before "ego"


Hi Brian,

I was thrown off by your title for this one.  I expected something more about Sunspots; if I'm missing it, direct me.  I was not as immediately pulled into this one as I was with Amourette and Phenomenologist.  I'm not sure why, it may simply be the subject matter.  But reading it now (after a nap Smile), I did enjoy your intensity as I have before.   It seems more a hymn to Spring than the Sun.

TqB
“All persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.”  Kurt Vonnegut
Reply
#3
(07-17-2021, 09:11 AM)TranquillityBase Wrote:  [font=georgia]Oh courier of the baneful night,                       I'd use simply "O", Oh is a less emphatic form I think[/font]
Must you enslave, suppress the tints
and stash day's salience out of spite
to drape a pall o’er twilight’s flint?
You slash to streams the glabrous sun
You best each sky, but cede the morn
The coup of birdsong swells to stun
Your onyx czars that fade, forlorn.

The salve of dawn will shimmer slight,
Within the jagged shadow loom
of sunstreaks stifled, their laked light                   You used this phrase in one of the other poems
leaks sun mosaics through oak booms.
What splendid augur Spring divines-
The seams shot through the wedded wood
infract buds crowning braided vines,
To push the pleated bulbs to hoods.

From westward whim a gale twirls lone,
perturbs the non-grazed pasture strands           ungrazed?
The hapless reeds twitch, then lay combed
Stripped seedlings sow stalks, borne again
Unlike this soul, whose meandering stem
Diffuses not one sprightly clone!
Pleased would I field my merriment
But I must face this dearth alone.

Still I have watched each birthing day
expire the pristine, nascent tense                  I don't think expire works....you can't expire something...maybe expend?
of morn- Congealing this array
would nurture long the famished sense!
To salve my stricken countenance,
I care not how communion stirs,
By life ascetic’s ply and grant,                       "By life's ascetic......"
By Sage’s scry, or Gnostic nerve.

Deface myself, I’d overthrow
All epistemic slant, ego                                 add another "all" before "ego"


Hi Brian,

I was thrown off by your title for this one.  I expected something more about Sunspots; if I'm missing it, direct me.  I was not as immediately pulled into this one as I was with Amourette and Phenomenologist.  I'm not sure why, it may simply be the subject matter.  But reading it now (after a nap Smile), I did enjoy your intensity as I have before.   It seems more a hymn to Spring than the Sun.

TqB

You're right tqb.....it is more an ode to Spring and an imposition of the narrator's feelings upon the landscape. I do not feel the "metaphysical conceit" is fulfilled yet, however. It definitely needs work to justify the final couplet.
Reply




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!