Blood in the Water
Last night I dreamt of broken glass
The streetlamps made it glow
I took off my shoes and took a step
Then in a trance I took another
And began to walk right through.
My blood crept down the alleyway
And I felt pain too long forgotten.
As I watched my life stream through the street
I knew with all my heart
The blood that glittered in those shards
Was flowing just for you.
Then in a flash like lightning
I was no longer in that street.
I looked around and found myself
Standing in a perfect stream
As the water bubbled through my toes
And the wind blew through my hair
I stared and suddenly realized, the creek was turning red.
posted by Martha Elaine Belden @ Wednesday, June 28, 2006
9 comments
9 Comments:
I like this, Martha. Y'know, just saying.
Thanks *... I really appreciate that.
I like it too... the imagery is pretty haunting.
Anyway, I thought I’d give you the scoop on that Italian poem from last week. * has been helping me making it sound modern yet poetic, and I’m so pleased with the result that I might put it on my blog... you know? In case I get another reader who might be interested in it!
But this is just for you, darling! I hope it was worth all that batting of eyes you did! :D
The coastguards’ house
You don’t remember the coastguards’ house
Perched high on the cliff above the sea.
It has waited for you, forlorn, since the evening
When the swarm of your thoughts flew in
And paused there restlessly.
For years, the south-west wind has lashed the old walls
And the sound of your laughter is no longer joyful:
The compass seems to have lost the North
And the count of the dice no longer adds up.
You don’t remember; another time
Clouds your memory, a thread reels itself in.
I hold one end, but the house grows dim, and on its roof The rusty weathervane spins without pity.
I hold one end; but you are left alone,
Nor are you here, breathing in the darkness.
O the fleeing horizon, illuminated by
The rare light of the oil tanker!
Is the passage here? (The waves grow stronger,
Swarming the overhanging cliff...).
You don’t remember the house of this, my evening.
And I don’t know who goes and who stays.
(Eugenio Montale)
Oh... that's beautiful. I'm certainly no expert on poetry... there's not even a lot that I like... but I really do love that.
And thanks for the compliment, Red. I was going for a sort of haunting effect, so I'm glad that was achieved.
Thanks again... the eye-batting was most definitely worth it :)
♪ Hello Baldness my old friend
♪ I've come to shine you up again
♪ With Mr. Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds
♪ If you're not Bald it surely makes you Bald
♪ Available at your friendly neighborhood drugstore
♪ Why pay more?
♪ To touch the shine of Baldness.
♪ And the people bow and pray
♪ To the Phlogiston® God you've made
♪ And the shineflash shouted it's warning
♪ Baldo's Wax will have you a-shorning
♪ And the shine says Mr. Baldo's profits glisten on your shiny Bald
♪ That's not all
♪ You've got the shine of Baldness.
Now with Phlogiston®‼
Baldo's Shiny Wax™ for Balds. Available at your friendly neighborhood drugstore.
Huh?
beautiful - you're a welcome addition to my blogging life - I never really had many people who regularly commented, I'm glad you're interested enough to do so.
I'm gonna add your blog to my links on the left if that's okay.
I'm flattered... and you know I've been meaning to do the same, so I'll do that right now.
Sorry to seem like a jerk and do it after you. But it's only a few minutes after... so I hope the sentiment isn't lost.
Really beautiful stuff. Mr Baldo thinks so too, whoever he is.
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