Sunday, January 22, 2012


At the water’s edge you always hear
the same near pressing elephant trumpeting
into the invisible air’s heart,
you imagine a gaze still amazed
despite the looming blindness
and, brushing your side, its tusks
on the verge of being uncovered
revealing crying rags of sunlight.

You love their insistence, bringing all the unseen near
on the bank of the canal along the sand-bar
facing cotton wool emptiness, the air
a marvelled pressure like fingers
carrying the silence of weightless pearls.
This rhythmic hum of sky is searching for your centre,
waiting to give mellowness to your heartbeat,
voicing your belief in the light and the present you relish
when you sense and touch the cells of the honeycomb,
the lungs and womb of your spreading shore.


Dave King said...

Impressive all through, yet you still managed to save the best line until the end.

Gordon Mason said...

Two wonderful poems full of imagery that fit differing subjects to the same theme in the ether of mist.

hedgewitch said...

Thanks so much for coming by my blog and leaving a taste of your poetry--I'm horrible at critique, so will just say both that and this are superb writing and I'm extremely taken with your gift.

Crafty Green Poet said...

I love the 'foghorn as elephant' image

Kass said...

I just saw a bit about elephants on 60 Minutes last night, about how they communicate. It was fascinating, as was your poem.

lungs and womb. wow.