Monday, August 13, 2012

The littered field




Where the edifice loomed
An opaque sky

I am drawn
To it:
The littered field
brash weed, lustre, loam

Furriers and junk dealers
Dybuks and delirium
The most uneasy of dreams

I watch as it all returns
The fabricant world
Crumbling.

As sure as
A new foal
Bolting
Conceived in late night quarrel
Grown in paved rubble.

Written for 3 word Wednesday, “crumble, drawn, uneasy” and Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

12 comments:

oldegg said...

I read this aloud to myself and I found my voice grated as the hard edged phrases came alive in my mind like an uneasy dream where I was both in and out of control. Curiously satisfying.

Mad Kane said...

What a powerful poem. Well done!
Madeleine Begun Kane

Green Speck said...

I loved the flow of words ... musical indeed !!!

Mama Zen said...

Really cool piece.

Daydreamertoo said...

Lovely.It almost sounds like paradise. If only.
Lovely poem.

Jim said...

Hi Gabrielle :) ~~ Nice to see you writing again. This is a nice little poem. It brings memories.

On the Interstate to Galveston I have watched fields turn into junk yards turn into fishing holes and now are completely under water, just a part of the bay/marsh collection.

This is a product of both the subsidence and of the global warming sea level increase.
..

gabrielle said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
gabrielle said...

Thanks oldegg for your very perceptive comment. It certainly has felt that way to me. I was working from memory and the concept of things recycled.

Glad you enjoyed, MadKane

Music! The highest compliment. Thanks, Green Speck

Thanks for your visit and your thoughts, Mama Zen.

Daydreamertoo. If only. Sigh.

Hi Jim. It's good to be writing again, though it's different this time.
This poem was inspired by memories.
And yes, by both natural and unnatural processes.
I returned to the place of my birth and found the apartment building had been demolished. Gazing through barbed wire onto an open field of weeds and rubble, I recall there was no nostalgia, only wonder. The next time I visited, there was a burgeoning community garden in its place.

Sandra said...

interesting...!!

Susan Daniels said...

Gorgeous!

Dianne said...

beautifully done

I love what you said about how it shows that Hope is loved, thank you :)

SandyCarlson said...

Oh that last stanza just gets me. Passion, grit, the danger of loss. Loss.