Midnight Sun [revised May 20], Wizard Award Options

[bbnixon]

Hi All,

Here is one perhaps more traditional than my last, would love everyones honest opinion.

:) brenda

Midnight Sun (version 4-tweaked on 5-20-07)

Shafts of light
pour down into white.
I sup on the absence
of color.
The silver wolf and I
feel the pull of the
moon calling us.

We howl.

Its ripe face chases us
from darkness into the lake
where cool still waters
mirror ashen bark.
My hand traces its glow,
a cup of moon spills through my fingers;
Ripples of sapphire, reflection of stars.

fae skimming water.

This is my magic place-
where at the age ten and one
I answered the call of the moon;
an affair whispered in mountain winds,
baptised in crystal waters. I cover myself
in a twinkling blanket of light.

One summer solstice
I became the watcher of a world
with many suns. Orange and violet
dance across the horizon.
The sun never rests.

Breaking all the rules

Midnight Sun (version 2)-thanks Merlin-I still need some help with the "the" in S3.

I am in love with the absence
of color.
Shafts of pure light
pouring down into the white.
I feel the moons pull.
I and the silver wolf

howl.

The full moon follows us
from darkness into the lake.
Paper white bark reflects
in the still cool water.
My hand traces the moon,
a cup of moon spilling through my fingers.
Ripples of water,
reflecting stars

fae skimming water.

This is my magic place
where it all began
at the age of ten and one.
I became one with the moon
the mountains, the water and
the stars.

On the summers solstice
in this magic place
I laid atop a camper.
A world with many suns,
orange and violet dance
across the horizon.
Watching the sun never set.

Breaking all the rules


Midnight Sun

I am in love with the absence
of color
pure shafts of light
pouring down into the white
I feel the pull of the full moon
I and the silver wolf
howl

the full moon follows us,
over the darkness
into the lake
surrounded by paper white bark
reflections in the still cool water
my hand traces the moon
a cup of moon spilling through my fingers
ripples in the water
reflection of stars
fae skimming water

this is my magic place
where it all began
at the age of ten and one
I became one with the moon
the mountains,
the water and the stars

on the summers solstice
in this magic place
I laid atop the camper
across the lake,
a world with many suns
orange and violet
watching the sun never set

breaking all the rules

[Arnfinn]

Hi John,


Perhaps...Brenda is familiar....I used to think it rather uncommon, but lately I keep bumping into my own name.

I have been trying to place if we know each other from another board...if we do, you will have to help me out...because I have been going crazy trying to place the "where" so far I know 4 Johns on other boards..none of which match the same basic profiles as yours....it has been driving me insane all morning ....I have historically posted on Splash, and Poets (mostly threads) and PenShells.


No, Brenda I don't think so... TCP poetry site, had a Brenda, a poet whom I interacted with, Today's Woman has a Brenda, and so on.

An unusual name, Brenda, unusual yes, but for some reason Brenda's seem to pop up in the wake of my navigation though the rough and tumble of life and poetry. Perhaps, I should dedicate a poem to Brenda? Maybe, write a poem about the good ship Brenda? When I was drafted into National Service many years ago I trained in the use of a machine carbine built in Czechoslovakia called a 'Bren Gun' that was so accurate that, the gun, would put five hundred rounds a minute through the same hole, so to compensate they ( the government armoury had to make the gun inaccurate). Then in my youth, (hmm... my bald head, had curly ringlets then) I was romantically involved a with a Brenda. So, I'm well assured, that some time, somewhere... there won't be a candid camera, but assuredly, a Brenda.


RRRETRO***


*Hi brenda,

Hmm... a familiar name.


Reading your poem I imagine North of Alaska... Waaay up ^.

So, the scene-is-set

You found me out...I lived in Alaska from 1969-1975... my Dad lives in Anchorage now, he retired there. I take my daughter most summers...this summer we are planning to go back to the place in this poem...it is near near Fairbanks where I grew up...I am quite excited...

Midnight Sun (version 3-tweaked on 5-07-07)


Wonderful Brenda. I knew your poem was a documentary. I find first hand knowledge is an incentive to bring out the best in us all.



Sometimes, Brenda, I'm severe, I hope you don't mind.

Shafts of pure light >>> Delete 'pure'. Pure in a poetry context is a definition of water. 'Shafts of light pour down into white' is like an explosion. The adjective 'pure' is not needed, it is excessive and detracts and meets my eye like a before-thought.
pour down into white.

Take Tennyson's. 'The Charge Of The Light Brigade.'

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

What a great start to verse poetry.

Note, the charge, full of action; except for one other feature: 'the valley'. No wasted adjectives here.


I am in love with the absence
of color. <<< A great line (singlet) very good pinkpanther.gif except for 'I'm in love' maybe more imagination, Brenda. One thing you've got to keep in the back of your mind is one day you will become famous, you want your poem to reach it's pinnacle 'I am in love' may let you down

Thanks for the Tennysons...and the poetry 101, as I never know for sure what words are considered poetic symbols other than a few of the more obvious ones...Is there a book? This makes me laugh....I can not imagine that someday I will be famous...but I like the removal of "pure" , I have to think about the "I am in love", a more imagitive one doesn't bubble up yet...but I am still pondering..


Hmmm.... We'll see what eventuates.


The silver wolf and I
feel the pull of the
moon calling us. <<< Now, this is good. This is pure Brenda, this is original. Everything you've said grips the reader as poetry.

We howl. <<< Ha, an infinity, good, very good, gal. Another cross on the wall for the sake poetry.


Its ripe face chases us
from darkness into the lake
where ashen bark reflects
cool, still waters.<<< Whooee, good mind imagery here for me Brenda.
My hand traces its glow,<<< Why singular? 'My hands traces the glow,'

a cup of moon spills through my fingers;
Ripples on water, reflecting stars.<<< THIS POINT in your poem is beautiful. this is the best part I've read , so far. 'a cup of moon spills through my fingers; ripples on water, reflecting stars.' A Disney Land graphic. A cartoon at it's best.


May stick with hand singular, as i think of kneeling by a lake with one hand in the water...except I use cup of moon, and generally hands cupped as in plural...will think....too Disney? wasn't what I was going for..just how it was in my memory..
fae skimming water.


This is my magic place-
where at the age ten and one
I answered the call of the moon;
an affair whispered in mountain winds,
baptized in crystal waters and <<< 'baptised'.
covered by a blanket of stars. <<< the use of 'stars' again might be overdone. 'baptised in lucent waters and covered by a blanket of crystal.'

Will think on this...the stars...I love stars...I miss the stars of my youth...nights so clear the stars so thick..I live in a large city now...and we are within a light dome..meaning we can't see the stars...so on a good night I might can only see 15 stars...will fix the spelling and am thinking on lucent....I am a little partial to crystal...as in Alaska the streams are rock bottomed, and in still water you can see your toes!! Here in Texas we have mud bottom lakes...
perhaps
crystal water and twinkling blanket of light.



I know where I'd like to be.


One summer solstice
I became the watcher of a world
with many suns. Orange and violet
dance across the horizon.
The sun never rests. <<< Mate, this is very good. This is a statement full of emotion, exhilaration and realisation of life.

Breaking all the rules



I'm waiting for the revision.

Regards,


John