"Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness."
Khalil Gibran

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Animus

Chair with Wings of a Vulture
Salvador Dali (1960)
Fair Use


With thoughts none too poetic,
I scan the sky, see a circle of vultures
scribbling with their hard beaks
upon the white-out glare of sharp sun

refracting off the stormed out clouds;
they know their place, an order of words
unspoken, a feather quill unbent,
an eye a drop of ink and a savage hunger

while I peck at awkward phrases,
earth-bound, human-like in my will
to speak and say nothing too fleshy,
using a knife and fork to slice

instead of talons that pierce
tough hide – a head for burrowing
through guts, a taste for blood
enough to finish the carrion poem.


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I can safely say that this is a poem I would never have written if not for Kim's prompt in The Imaginary Garden entitled Thought Animals. The basis of the poem is true - I did see vultures in the sky this morning. I wondered what they were looking for in the suburbs but they just seemed to be passing over and enjoying the thermals. I have been feeling very unpoetic of late, but something gelled. (I hope.)

20 comments:

  1. This is splendid... the carrion voice is significant these days... We were on very very similar thoughts in our animals. Love that thought that they know their place... to really not care that they are hated...

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  2. A taste for blood, talons piercing the hide and that savage hunger create such a raw understanding of what verse is and how it comes to life. I liked how you pictured it a bit wild and instinctual. That's how it is after all.
    A well thought verse. I really enjoyed it. :-)
    -HA

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  3. Luv the idea of the vultures, sure in their essence, awakening the poetic sense in the poet

    Much love...

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  4. A well-chosen title, Kerry, worthy of a vulture, as is the poem itself.
    I love the way the vultures are 'scribbling with their hard beaks /
    upon the white-out glare of sharp sun' - a striking image. The poem has more powerful imagery:

    'they know their place, an order of words
    unspoken, a feather quill unbent,
    an eye a drop of ink and a savage hunger

    while I peck at awkward phrases'

    and

    'instead of talons that pierce
    tough hide – a head for burrowing
    through guts, a taste for blood
    enough to finish the carrion poem'.

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  5. I like the way the vultures that you saw inspired you to write such a 'carrion poem.' Enjoyed the metaphoric words...you really 'captured' (if a vulture can be captured - smiles) something with them.

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  6. If this is you feeling unpoetic, the world might need body-armor to survive the shock of you feeling extra poetic. This is open-heart poetry, wild with blood on its teeth, ripping at the world's gut, singing of terrifying beauty... Even through the harshness of the images, I see the gentle vividness you always feed into your poetry. And I love it.

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  7. I LOVE the image of the vultures scribbling with their beaks!!!!! and you, earth-bound, pecking at words. And yes, what Magaly said if this is you feeling un-poetic. LOL.

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  8. Goodness, Kerry this is absolutely brilliant!!❤️

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  9. It takes true talent to make vultures poetic and beautiful! And you have done just that :-)

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  10. No need to apologize. We may not think this too poetic ("I can safely say that this is a poem"), but we must bow to the imagination of it.

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  11. Geesh as I lay here as only a skeleton and bones :(
    ZQ

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  12. i like the image of vulture and its hunger and how a poem births...so very neatly done, as always....

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  13. I like poems that express or inspire 'savage hunger'!

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  14. They are scribbling and you are pecking. I like that flip of roles.

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  15. Oh damn, this is tough! I love it!

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  16. Very good and imaginative piece of writing of which I enjoyed reading.

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  17. to speak and say nothing too fleshy,
    using a knife and fork to slice

    instead of talons that pierce
    tough hide – a head for burrowing
    through guts, a taste for blood

    Makes me gasp at the truth of this. I want to write this way.

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  18. through guts, a taste for blood
    enough to finish the carrion poem.

    One can relate to writing poetry in a peaceful environment to get the best results without having to tear things apart. Agreed Kerry!

    Hank

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