Sunday, October 5, 2014

Harvest




















They spy at windows,
pound open the door. 

Poems are mistaken for sorcery,
intuition as heathen.

There is trial, ordeal by water; 
evidently, I float.

I bob the surface,
fetal against frothy black.

Wicker is made to order,
waist-high nest with a stake. 

They march around me,
army of preoccupied sheep.

Have you any wool?
I decline the blindfold.

Then comes smoke,
my eyes like a startled horse. 



tk/October 2014



A masterful read by R.A.D. Stainforth...



at
Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

22 comments:

  1. AnonymousSun Oct 05, 03:09:00 PM

    love the previous events...before the smoke!

    ReplyDelete
  2. HelenSun Oct 05, 04:25:00 PM

    Tess, this one of your finest.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Stafford RaySun Oct 05, 04:56:00 PM

    Joan of Arc was there too.

    ReplyDelete
  4. humbirdSun Oct 05, 05:56:00 PM

    Love the movement here...possibly the whole play...with disguised sheep....very cool! xx

    ReplyDelete
  5. UnknownSun Oct 05, 09:40:00 PM

    I love seeing where differrent voices go with these, who chooses to climb, who descends, those of us who wander are pioneer spirits in a pantheon of elements, half-reactions turning ourselves over to a greater science. What a voice you've given her, history and grace, fetish and birthplace.

    ReplyDelete
  6. LolamouseSun Oct 05, 10:11:00 PM

    Chilling!

    ReplyDelete
  7. elaine Mon Oct 06, 03:21:00 AM

    Witchy woman

    ReplyDelete
  8. Ankita Mon Oct 06, 04:14:00 AM

    loved the imagery in the poem :)

    ReplyDelete
  9. BerowneMon Oct 06, 05:08:00 AM

    As usual, both inventive and wise...

    ReplyDelete
  10. Anjum Wasim DarMon Oct 06, 05:35:00 AM

    beautiful -images intensely captivating-a pleasure to read -inspiring

    ReplyDelete
  11. Silent Otto Mon Oct 06, 06:54:00 AM

    Like Custer trying to ride across the river ......

    ReplyDelete
  12. Yvonne OsborneMon Oct 06, 09:14:00 AM

    Masterful write and chilling conclusion.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Bekkie SanchezMon Oct 06, 11:22:00 AM

    This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Bekkie SanchezMon Oct 06, 11:25:00 AM

    Must be the season of the witch? Loved the last line horses do get that look. Bravo Tess!

    No one has come to my poetry for 3 weeks! Last week I had 2 people (you included.) I hope it changes. Hugs!

    ReplyDelete
  15. 21 WitsMon Oct 06, 01:00:00 PM

    Oh no, oh no, I swear she's not a witch! God Speed dear girl, flee your post of barbed-wire and those that encircle you now! My idea of good poetry- when it evokes feelings deep within! Bravo.

    ReplyDelete
  16. Helen Killeen Bauch McHargueMon Oct 06, 01:48:00 PM

    I overlooked the smoke - such a subtle part of the prompt and with so much possibility. I love the way you used it.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Paul Andrew RussellMon Oct 06, 03:54:00 PM

    Powerful imagery in this piece, Tess. Very nicely wrapped up in the last two lines.

    ReplyDelete
  18. WanderMon Oct 06, 07:44:00 PM

    Wow, how you went all med-evil on this pic was awesome

    ReplyDelete
  19. sageTue Oct 07, 07:47:00 AM

    Powerful and haunting writing! The end leaves us hanging at the horror.

    ReplyDelete
  20. AnonymousTue Oct 07, 04:30:00 PM

    Strong writing. Love the images in this, Tess.

    ReplyDelete
  21. SilverGardeniaWed Oct 08, 02:54:00 PM

    Nice Halloween flavor.

    ReplyDelete
  22. JBinford-BellWed Oct 08, 04:05:00 PM

    The last two lines are my favorite and for me the most vivid.

    ReplyDelete

Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)