Saturday, September 4, 2010

This Sunday LC is on the bus again, contemplating a long-ago transformation

Pure fiction is driving TFE's Poetry Bus this week (click the link to read some great poems!), and the ticket is "a moment of transformation."  In this poem, Lemuel reflects on such a moment.  The first draft of this was written over twenty years ago about events that occurred a dozen years prior to that, so please don't think I'm about to step in front of the bus...I'm simply presenting what I hope is a worthy ticket.

Hunted: A Poem from The Nadir

 By Lemuel Crouse

The sun is cold today--
cold and penetrating--
an icy arrow shot by him
who hunts the frozen winter sky.

Cold, too, are faces
that seem to look intently
but do not see within the silent man
the whimpering child.

Today I am hunted--
haunted, some would say--
but they have not seen the smiling terror
that stalks my dreams.

The sun is cold today--
cold and glowing--
an endless bright night
devoid of blessed, concealing darkness.

                                                         Cold, too, are lungs
                                                         that burn but still
                                                         are not consumed by flames
                                                         from the longed-for final fire.

Today I am running--
avoiding, some would say--
but they have not been served
a draught from the well of hell.

The sun is cold today--
cold and unredemptive--
a puppet knight crucified on the clouds,
unable to save himself, let alone me.

Cold, too, are words
which sound the hollow knell of faith
and smell of bitter ashes
blown down from hope’s cremation.

Today I am alone--
selfish, some would say--
but they have not felt this searing sting,
this thrust from a trusted sword.

(Images: stock photo of the Orion constellation; my pic of winter sun setting)


The Bug said...

Hunted and haunted - a thrust from a trusted sword... I've felt this myself, after betrayal. Well said!

Sam Liu said...

A haunting poem, dark and very powerful. The repetition gives your words a solemn emphasis.

Totalfeckineejit said...

Relentless cold, even the sun is cold.A sense of hopelessness and the sword of Betrayal explains it all.Powerful and well written. Love your pic of the winter sunset.
Glad you got on the bus and not under it!

altar ego said...

Oh, man, but this makes me shiver. Beautifully written. I can FEEL the anguish, the cold, the sting. Well done!

Niamh B said...

a very lonely piece, strong with it though. love the icy arrow in the frozen winter sky

Pure Fiction said...

This really captures an incredible a sense of hopelesness. And the refrain is perfect - it says so much so simply.

the watercats said...

this really does read as it means to be felt... beautiful stuff!

Lydia said...

Brrrrrrr...what a poem!

I do hope this coming winter will be kind to us all, as I hope we will be kind to one another keeping this phrase in mind:
Cold, too, are faces
that seem to look intently
but do not see within the silent man
the whimpering child.

Carolina Linthead said...

Well said, Lydia. Thanks, y'all!

Peter Goulding said...

The 'some might say' repetition is very effective. I need to go and put on a sweatshirt.

Titus said...

Yes, ice-cold but very strong, and stunning use of repetitions.
Beautiful photographs too.

Karen said...

Coming late means everyone has said what I would have stated, so I simply echo the others. Bravo.