Outwards the land resembles nothing so much as dried gravy:
the trees stunted, the rocks sparse, the coast smoothed over by the trowel of time
And the sea, which echoes the land’s voice, undulates like greasy rubber under a sullen sky
image by Mostafa Habibi |
The Self-propelling
Our boat lumbered in, took passengers and creased its way off again
I’ve watched the oars lift and plunge, scoop the oozing sea into bucketsful of argument,
catch political crabs, imagined diplomacies, crossing floors and times
I’ve seen no ferryman drive those blades, no solid being rooted in flesh
only the empty thwarts creak as if under load,
the grunt of wood and sigh of shackle and spin
We waited in silence for light and dark to pass
we waited in eager ignorance, believing always in the craft
self-propelling to our shores.
It is our choice and our creed: Be ready to embark
The others have gone across the shingle,
leaving tainted air where they passed.
I stood and watched them go.
Time passes
I am buried now, age laps me, the sky lowers
the dinghy returns for one last trip
Ferryman ships the dripping oars
now he waits for me, restless.
My limbs respond to the call,
I am walking, skipping through shallows, stepping aboard.
The keel grinds on sand, heavy with my imagined weight
Ferryman poles off the shore
then flicks the oars into their locks:
with a cry – I hear his voice! – he pulls away.
The sea becomes the air: we fly.
We, who once
Thanks to Tess at Magpie Tales for the prompt. Other journeys may be found here
x
28 comments:
Just this minute signed in and spotted the new Magpie - couldn't think what to say so looked for what it had inspiredothers to write.
Loved this reponse!
wow- what a great piece.
Such an excellent, eerie atmosphere to this.
"the coast smoothed over by the trowel of time" and that wasn't the only gem!
If I believed in ghosts and the occult, this would give me goose bumps!
I've been playing with the idea of a ferryman myself.
This is good.
The final passage - inescapable but not frightening through your words.
Terrific-- beautiful language on rough seas--
I’ve seen no ferryman drive those blades, no solid being rooted in flesh
only the empty thwarts creak as if under load,
the grunt of wood and sigh of shackle and spin
yes! xxxj
your imagery is strong. A pleasure being here.
So intense, full of meaning. Yes, a pleasure to read!!!
Wow, Isabel, so much to like here, especially, "...heavy with my imagined weight..."
We who once... ???? But what, is the question?
Oh, the ferryman takes this to a whole different plane. There's a lot going on here Isabel. One little specific thing I thought was great, 'the oozing sea into bucketsful of argument, Kudos on this!
"Believing always in the craft"...mistake #1...Brilliant and profound!
Powerful imagery here. Good poem.
A great verse. Thought provoking! Excellent!
Hank
Dear Isabel: Love how the last line drifts on, as endless as the sea;
The sea becomes the air: we fly.
We, who once
Seems more could be said but it isn't; just enough to keep 'em guessing...great oarsmanship!
Wonderful finale! Shades of "We who are about to die salute you" seem to me to run through this, in the creed of readiness, in the closing line, and of course the ferryman.
I see yourpoem clearly. And it's perfect the way it is.
Lovely and sad at the same time.
This is so otherworldy and mysterious. Simply beautiful.
A powerful write, beautifully written:)
Grunt of wood...oh yeah!
I am reminded of the ferryman on the River Styx transporting the dead and of Dante's ferryman. Eerie and mysterious, perfect response to the prompt.
the opening is spectacular in its imagery...and your story telling follows well after...really enjoyed your eerie enchantment...
Great words and imagery. Excellent!
Anna :o]
evocative and dreamlike
beautiful words...beautifully written!
Were you referring to the river Styx -- or did I guess wrong?
The poem generally is superb - which must mean that the ending is superb+!
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