Adonis in Dreamscape --First Revision ~~tweaked Options

[azurepoetry]

1st Revision ~~tweaked (thank you Liz and Snow)

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed on any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed.
Someone crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and soar into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released,
I twist and fall onto my knees.

The wind offers burning incense:
cherry-wood and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's stuttering wingtip-- brushes me.

My trembling fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives us all in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly thickens into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

I wake.

The sun bestows me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Original

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

sing warnings to intruders, while I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip off myself; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; I see

the meadowlarks scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His arms,
indefatigable, with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands, hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture and fall
like iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young barefoot maidens in flowing virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.


**Inspired by Nina's poem: I Want to Disappear **

[Eisa]

Hi Tim

I have returned with a few thoughts, although there is little to pick at here. I just have praise and admiration!

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

The beginning has a dreamy feel that draws me in.
I keep feeling I’d like to see ‘I tango’ on a new line here, but I like the feel of movement on the narrator’s part.

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks


Perhaps ‘unindexed on any chart'

sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

Great sonics in this st. which fits in nicely with the birds singing.

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

beautiful imagery in these 2 stanzas. I felt that meadowlarks might work better beginning the following stanza and also miss the ‘and’

meadowlarks scatter, flying into …

in fact I think swoop or dive would fit better – perhaps dive would fit well with the water below.

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:


perhaps original position for L2

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

Now some added interest – you introduce ‘he’ -- and the sudden change to a 2 line stanza is interesting

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

Perhaps ~
Indefatigable, his sun-kissed arms
gather me up
wildflowers bunched against his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

I feel like saying
while his breath like ….

My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.


L1 I think shaking fingers sounds better here – or trembling
L3 receives us all …….

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.


I love the introductory short line ‘we spin’. Hereon this becomes mystical. You have added so much interest with reference to poetry and ancient goddess. Excellent!


We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

Perhaps ‘his blood flows into a bed of red roses?
This has a wonderful mystical feel of dream-like fantasy.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

I was wondering how this would end and have to applause!
You have the incense and roses from earlier to tie it all together.

I really love this Tim. it is one of the most unique poems I have read in a long time
I have a feeling I shall be back again to digest this even further.

Snow

[azurepoetry]

Hello Snow,

Thank you so much for coming back to this poem. Let me address your thoughts first.

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

The beginning has a dreamy feel that draws me in.
I keep feeling I’d like to see ‘I tango’ on a new line here, but I like the feel of movement on the narrator’s part.
---i want the break on the verb 'tango'. The "location" and the verb and then we are given the sun and the heat, like the building of the fever. i sense you internal uneasiness about the split; believe me, i wanted that.

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks


Perhaps ‘unindexed on any chart' ---um, yeah 'on'...i like it.

sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

Great sonics in this st. which fits in nicely with the birds singing. ---thank you very much.

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

beautiful imagery in these 2 stanzas. I felt that meadowlarks might work better beginning the following stanza and also miss the ‘and’ ---got it. thank you.meadowlarks scatter, flying into …

in fact I think swoop or dive would fit better – perhaps dive would fit well with the water below. ---yes, dive might be better; i was looking for something like that, but a word that might address both 'up' and 'down'.

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:


perhaps original position for L2

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

Now some added interest – you introduce ‘he’ and the sudden change to a 2 line stanza is interesting
---i do not like the 2 line stanza break. Unable to address that weakness, i decided to workshop this. *smile*

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

Perhaps ~
Indefatigable, his sun-kissed arms
gather me up
wildflowers bunched against his bare chest ---yes, i am fixated on keeping skin with sun-kissed. i will think about this as you are the third person to have omitted the word 'skin'.

in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

I feel like saying
while his breath like ….

My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.


L1 I think shaking fingers sounds better here – or trembling
L3 receives us all ……. ---you're correcting, one of this -ing's should be used. Thank you.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.


I love the introductory short line ‘we spin’. Hereon this becomes mystical. You have added so much interest with reference to poetry and ancient goddess. Excellent! ---thank you again, Snow.


We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

Perhaps ‘his blood flows into a bed of red roses? ---This creates a possibility that one item is moving into another, not becoming. The latter is my intention for reasons i mentioned above, i want the birth-life-death-rebirth aspect of the lesser god Adonis to be repeated in the blood-red rose-maiden image of menstration.
This has a wonderful mystical feel of dream-like fantasy.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

I was wondering how this would end and have to applause!
You have the incense and roses from earlier to tie it all together.

I really love this Tim. it is one of the most unique poems I have read in a long time
I have a feeling I shall be back again to digest this even further.

Thank you very much Snow. This has been helpful. i don't think this poem is that extensive. The message is no matter what our dream lover may be, something of that love/lust/interaction can be manifest in the real world. Elements of mythology: Adonis and Aphrodite, etc., losing oneself (zen reference and slip off myself) and a sense of nature's participation can all make up a real love, imho.

Your words are very helpful. i will work this one over in a little bit. i have crits to catch up on. **smile**

~tim