GAIA [revised 20 Mar 08], SECOND REVISION Options

[Psyche]

SECOND REVISION

GAIA

To unwind, to dream,
beneath the canopy of a willow-tree!
I wander your prairies, Gaia,
picture sunflowers smile
at summer skies,
charting the sun’s orbit till nightfall.

Vast terrains pretend to slumber,
guarded by languid owl-eyes
stalking slinky felines
and other unseen creatures of night.

I sleep beneath my leafy umbrella
as frogs croak the onset of dawn,
heralding showers flirting with rainbows.
In dreams I circumnavigate
mountain lakes, sight naissance of rivers.

I recite poems that nobody wrote,
wondrous words dormant in memories of the dead.
I gaze at Gothic cathedrals, the Taj Mahal,
Roman aqueducts dominating Italic olive groves,
Alexandria’s library perished beneath the sea.

Libelious lies and carnage disrupt my trance.

Where has love gone,
where the chubby toes of children?
Why does blossom wither by waysides?
Nuclear submarines inflame sapphire seas…

I've shared hope with shipwrecked migrants,
blending homage and heartache.
I am a refugee seeking a fresh life,
or just life...
I dream the dreams of all men.

I conjure up dust-bowls on Austral steppes,
Amazonia gutted by russet roads,
thawing glaciers thunder Andean slopes.

Ice cubes tremble in my crystal tumbler,
as I offer a toast to Gaia,
to mystery, unreason, riddles,
the paradox of her existence in space-time,
to reality.

Reality is the destruction I have caused her.
It is mourning a death foretold,
though Death is not her death
but mine.

By Psyche

Copyright: Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2007.




REVISION


GAIA

To unwind, to dream,
beneath the canopy of a willow-tree!
I wander your prairies, Gaia,
picture sunflowers smile at summer skies,
charting the sun’s orbit till nightfall.

Vast terrains pretend to slumber,
guarded by languid owl-eyes
stalking slinky felines
and other creatures of night.
I sleep on beneath my leafy umbrella,
even as frogs croak the arrival
of dawn showers flirting with rainbows.
In dreams I circumnavigate
mountain lakes, sighting naissance of rivers.

I recite poems that nobody wrote,
wondrous verses dormant in memories of the dead.
I gaze at Gothic cathedrals, Taj Mahal,
Roman aqueducts dominating Italic olive groves,
Alexandria’s library perished to the sea.

Libelious lies and carnage disrupt my trance:
Where has love gone,
where the chubby toes of children?
Why does blossom wither by waysides?
Nuclear submarines inflame sapphire seas…
I share dreams with drowned sailors,
blending homage and heartache.
I am a refugee seeking a fresh life,
or just a life...
I dream the dreams of all men.

I conjure barren austral steppes,
Amazonian forests fissured by red roads
and far-flung thawing glaciers.

Uneasily rattling ice-cubes in a crystal tumbler,
I offer a toast to Gaia,
to mystery, unreason, riddles,
the paradox of her existence in space-time,
.................................to reality.

Reality is the destruction I have caused her.
It is mourning a death foretold,
though Death is not her death
.................................but mine.

By Psyche

Copyright: Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2007.


ORIGINAL


GAIA

To unwind, close my eyes, to dream,
beneath the canopy of a willow-tree!
I wander your prairies, Gaia,
picture sunflowers smile at summer skies,
charting the sun’s orbit till nightfall.

Vast terrains pretend to slumber,
guarded by languid owl-eyes
stalking slinky felines, hares
and other creatures of night.
I sleep on beneath my leafy umbrella,
even as frogs croak the arrival
of dawn showers playing at rainbows
with the sun. In dreams I circumnavigate
mountain lakes, sight naissance of rivers.

I recite poems that nobody wrote,
wondrous verses dormant in memories of the dead.
And then I gaze at Gothic cathedrals,
at Taj Mahal, at Roman aqueducts
dominating Italic olive groves,
at Alexandria’s library perished in the sea.

Libel, lies and carnage disrupt my trance:
Where has love gone, where the chubby toes of children?
Why does blossom wither by waysides?
Nuclear submarines inflame sapphire seas…?
I share dreams with drowned sailors,
blending homage and heartache.
I am a refugee seeking a fresh life,
or just a life...
I dream the dreams of all men.

I conjure barren austral steppes
gasp at far-flung thawing glaciers,
Amazonian forests fissured by red roads,
while I uneasily rattle ice-cubes in a crystal tumbler.
I raise my tumbler and offer a toast
to Gaia, to mystery, unreason, riddles,
the paradox of her existence in space-time,
.................................to reality.

Reality is the destruction I have caused her.
It is mourning a death foretold,
though Death is not her death
.................................but mine.

By Psyche

Copyright: Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2007.

[AMETHYST]

Oh my Sylvia,

I adore the visuals and the context of this poem, very nicely done. I haven't taken the time to read through any other replies, however I am focusing on the revision so hopefully I won't repeat too much. :)


Hugs, Liz

GAIA

To unwind, to dream,
beneath the canopy of a willow-tree!
I wander your prairies, Gaia,
picture sunflowers smile at summer skies,
charting the sun’s orbit till nightfall.

The first few lines are strikening images and start to immediately shape the view for the reader. I thought perhaps L4, might work well if 'at summer skies, was brought down to its own line. There is a very pleasing sound blend through out and I find it works well in all stanzas.

Vast terrains pretend to slumber,
guarded by languid owl-eyes
stalking slinky felines
and other creatures of night.

I would suggest a stanza break after 'creatures of night' ... Perhaps there is a way to make this more active. I love the use of 'pretend' to imply that it's sleepiness can be deceiving - L2, perhaps switching the words around. 'languid owl-eyes guard' (this to my ear makes it more active) as well as including another word to sharpen the 'other creatures' perhaps 'and other unseen creatures of night'

I sleep on beneath my leafy umbrella,
even as frogs croak the arrival
of dawn showers flirting with rainbows.
In dreams I circumnavigate
mountain lakes, sighting naissance of rivers.

I would suggest omitting 'on' and in L2, omit even
I would bring up 'of dawn' to end of line 2 and add like before showers.

I recite poems that nobody wrote,
wondrous verses dormant in memories of the dead.
I gaze at Gothic cathedrals, Taj Mahal,
Roman aqueducts dominating Italic olive groves,
Alexandria’s library perished to the sea.

Would you consider ;

I recite unwritten poems,
wondrous verses dormant
in memories of the dead, I gaze
at Gothic Cathedrals, the Taj Mahal,
...

Libelious lies and carnage disrupt my trance:
Where has love gone,
where the chubby toes of children?
Why does blossom wither by waysides?
Nuclear submarines inflame sapphire seas…
I share dreams with drowned sailors,
blending homage and heartache.
I am a refugee seeking a fresh life,
or just a life...
I dream the dreams of all men.

I would put an end stop after carnage and bring down disrupt my trance; down 1 line
then where the narrator begins questioning the changes perhaps bring it to a new stanza ...

I would also suggest omitting 'or just a life' as I felt '...seeking a fresh life,' has stronger meaning an intent. Actually the last line ... " I dream the dreams of all men.' would be an excellent ending line of the poem.

I conjure barren austral steppes,
Amazonian forests fissured by red roads
and far-flung thawing glaciers.

Uneasily rattling ice-cubes in a crystal tumbler,
I offer a toast to Gaia,
to mystery, unreason, riddles,
the paradox of her existence in space-time,
.................................to reality.

Reality is the destruction I have caused her.
It is mourning a death foretold,
though Death is not her death
.................................but mine.

By Psyche

I really would take that line 'I dream the dreams of all men -" and leave it on its own after ... though death is not her death .... but mine. / I dream the dreams of all men.

It has a very serious context and can leave the reader feeling intrigued.

Anyway. I hope I've helped some I think this poem is exciting and mysterious. A wonderful read and I will be reading it again!

I second Lori's Nomination to IBPC! :)

Hugs, Liz