August IBPC Nominations, September Competition Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi all,

This poem, Zambezi Storm certainly has gone through a metamorphosis through revisions. I love the metaphors, the descriptions of this 'storm' and the feeling of being there it left me, not to mention the ending of 'hope' as daylight cleanses all. Lovely!

Good luck Bev!


Zambezi Storm by Beverleigh G Annegarn

Violet clouds roll
like dragon’s breath
over earth’s contours.
In their wake, sharp raindrops
spike expectant ground.

Lightning spears pierce
and lash chaotically
silhouetting baobabs
clinging to shuddering rock.

Rain licks my face,
trickles into my eyes,
traps my clothing
on my shivering flesh.

Water shards, beamed by
pyrotechnics, scurry down
hills and banks. Gullies
gouge and chisel toward
the engorged river.

A night -
when elements
scrape together:
energies connect like war drums
on heaven’s stage.

Daylight reveals
a cleansing…
animals dance,
pudgy plants perk and peek.

Sunshine kisses the wounded.

This post has been edited by Cleo_Serapis: Sep 14 08, 07:58

Reason for edit: 6th edit

[Cleo_Serapis]

In response to Bev's poem 'Zambezi Storm', Thoth's ballad, Ballad of iZamu is filled with a lovely rhythm, rhymes, imagery and story! This gets my nod for IBPC contention.

Best of luck!

Ballad of iZamu by Walter William Schwim
Sketch of a Limpopo storm coming off the Soutpansberg mountains,
down the Mutamba river valley over the hill known as iZamu (The maidens breast)

iZamu slumbers in the heat between the sultry hills,
a dusky maiden's profile’s draped with dark cloud shadow fills.
Her moody sensual form’s backlit in pastel blues and mauves,
while riverine, Mutamba green,
winds serpine through her groves.

Limpopo sun since dawn has baked the humid valley air,
‘till nimbus clouds from endless blue now magically appear.
A hazy skyline, frowning grey, looks angry, smudged and strange,
pulls air in huffs and fitful puffs
toward the Zoutpan range.

A sense of expectation drifts across the valley floor,
then suddenly I know it’s there, I smell the monster’s maw.
On looking up, I glimpse its giant cumulating cheeks
roaring past the mountains vast,
clawing at the peaks.

Wenguli, smoking flail in hand beats cowering Sun away.
A dust cloud flees his naked wrath, while trees, in panic, sway.
With growls and groans he spits and moans, relentless in his march
destroying wills of guarding hills
and enters through the arch.

iZamu braces for the strike, submitting as the storm,
comes rolling down between her mounds, smothering her form.
He spreads upon the basin floor his overwhelming bulk,
with ill intent, destruction bent;
intimidating hulk.

Wenguli shreds and blasts the air with cataclysmic sound,
hurls stinging bursts of hail to thrash the wincing dusty ground.
A warrior of doom he seems with mighty flashing blades,
who swells and grows with throbs and flows
into her dells and glades.

Sky-burst torrent plumbing down, engulfing airborne tide,
inundated road becomes a raging river wide.
A dozen waterfalls appear and gush from rocky spouts,
‘mid fitful throws and body blows
there’s fireworks and shouts.

iZamu drowning from the weight, the storm is want to gloat,
but as the mayhem seems its worst, there comes a thread of hope.
She draws her rainbow sword of light to smite the brute away,
who shies with pain then flees in shame,
returns the light of day.

Wenguli flees the glowing foil with final flash and roar;
he grumbles beaten from the land and douses her no more.
Her vlies are shining loud and wet, all silver in delight
and swifts soar proud against the cloud,
rejoicing in their flight.

While sunlight warms iZamu’s breast, her languid stretch and sigh
shows fresh her maiden silhouette on glowing turquoise sky.
Mutamba's thunderous voice roars out, beyond the canyon bend,
a million flying-ants emerge
to seek the rainbow’s end . . .

This post has been edited by Cleo_Serapis: Aug 21 08, 05:51

Reason for edit: Rev 3