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Transmitter

The church steeple stylus
tracked a groove
in the turning sky,
and that grey day played
like a symphony

clinging by precarious gravity
I 
saw the bare trees
bristle like standing hair
on Earth’s tingling skin


a feeling of peace 
mingling with rising awe
struck 
by the lightning realization
of clouds parting
releasing earthbeams
toward the hungry sun

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Comments

1 - 7 of 7

  • Schwa...Ugh
    February 16
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    Nice. I love it.

  • dave ochs silver member
    February 12
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    hey john

    releasing earth beams toward the sun? you mean sun beams towrrds the earth? this is blashomy. you know they hung Copenicus for stuff like this. but anyway...

    i think weve all witnessed moments like this that were awe inspiring and you captured it nicely.
    dave

    . Rewarded 6


    • Windhover silver member
      February 13
      Edit | Reply
      Hey Ochs, I knew you'd know this feeling. (Got any acid, man?) As for Copernicus, he got what he deserved. Bad enough he was a cop but who the fuck calls themselves Ernie any more? He was a cus. Okay, okay I don't know who Copernicus was, but if he wrote shit like this he was my kinda guy.


  • riveralex gold member
    February 12
    Edit | Reply

    An architectural piece

    ...possibly more fun and shape than sound and sense but hey, why not? But I do like the imagery of reverse lightning and the sound of "the hungry sun" - but a hungry sun, is that one devouring the "earthbeams"? That I don't quite get. But I don't care, I am very entertained... best RA

    . Rewarded 6


  • gnosisonG silver member
    February 12

    Edit | Reply

    A Nice Erection

    of words here Windhover, set in tiers of meaning and subtle allusions which serve to sanctify contemplation of sacred architecture and its place within another creation, whether by a deity or Nature or pure chance, by evolution or design. Indeed, upon the architrave of "Earth’s tingling flesh" or the flying buttress of "clouds parting" or even the lodestone of "hungry sun" you seem to lean to a far more pantheist slant more in keeping with the spiritual giants of pre-christian Gaellic Ireland than the pygmies of today, no matter how high their steeples pierce the Firmament and direct music-of-the-spheres within its heavenly grooves.
    Your poetic "touch" has never been better W - a tactile awareness wonderfully imparted to the reader - devoid of semantic badinage and ecclesiastical baggage - enhanced by useage of words such as "bristles" (bristling greenbeards set against masonry´s backdrop) though I must admit I was half-expecting there to be a rhyme with epistles. To sum up may I say your Immaculate Stylus is eons from styleless. Morning glory.
    Cheers
    gG


  • Lad silver member
    February 11

    Edit | Reply
    Sometimes, John - I should say, often - you amaze me with your poetic imagination. This one is, for me, literally and figuratively, fantastic. I'm able to see and feel all through this poem, its clarity so skillful - that needle of a steeple/stylus sending out music while the poet, struck, hangs onto sure, fleshy ground in wonder, feeling Peace in "the bare trees bristle", and in a state of almost blinded wonder at how much a hungry sun (Son, perhaps?) needs our beaming back, our acceptance. You may or may not have intended a subtle allusion to Ash Wednesday, but that's how it rang for me: beautiful "grey" becomes "earthbeams."

    One of your best, morning's minion - sheer, pure, clean, the poet cleansed, however momentarily. I admire every word, line and nuance. Even the format reaches up above and down below, like radiant light from lightening.

    Most excellent. It's this quality of poetry that keeps me enjoying the site.

    Best!

    Lad

    . Rewarded 8


    • Windhover silver member
      February 13
      Edit | Reply

      I smoked a reefer once but I didn't inhale...

      Wow, that's quite a response, Lad. I'm gratified because this one was harder work than usual for me. I have to confess, the idea of the steeple as a stylus was not my own, but I had to run with it having heard it. Despite my pleas to the contrary, the poet who coined it decided to go with the image of a chisel to the sky instead and he okayed it for me to develop the stylus idea. I used to have thoughts like this in the days when I indulged in the odd reefer at bedtime. I just never had the energy to do anything about them! Thanks so much for your fullsome praise and continuing support. It's comment like this that keeps me coming back here (I'm such an egoist)! My Best as always. >W<

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