The Terrorist, wading in clear water Options

[Arnfinn]

The Terrorist


My bed destitute warmth,
thick mutant covers,
cacoons that gently lull
sleep into mysteries—
into mysteries, into mystery.

I open my eyes; he stands
beads of sweat, bristles,
a swarthy chin.
His mouth opens— a forest
howling in a gale.

Unshackled fire finds me:
impassive rain drizzles
from a molten core.
Eyes, chaffed split lips inside
scoured brain cells.

Am I alone? Do others peep
through frayed sheets?
I do not know. Do they turn
and go; lips atremble, unstable?
I see and hear them not.

A crystal tear wanders,
then drops to his breast,
body cleansed— he sighs…
then drives the  knife deep:
red— I hear sobs, I see red.

A volcanic spray— I see red.
Red lips twist, thin red vipers.
‘I rule heaven and darkness
and all found therein.
I am a servant of God’! …  




Arnfinn

This poem is copyright. © John Macleod  19/09/2005

[Ephiny]

Hello John,

I thought that the imagery in this poem was excellent..really powerful..leaving a stark, cold and lonely atmosphere, quite a nightmarish quality..this poem could be taken very literally as the scene which it describes or could be comprehended in many differerent ways..a past that haunts someone through their dreams, thoughts or memories, or maybe that's just me!

I open my eyes; he stands
beads of sweat, bristles,
a swarthy chin.
His mouth opens— a forest
howling in a gale. brilliant lines..great impact

There is a feel of the narrator almost detatching from the scene which he is describing and seeing it as an onlooker..it's very well done.


I loved this part

Am I alone? Do others peep
through frayed sheets?
I do not know. Do they turn
and go; lips atremble, unstable?
I see and hear them not. quite a universal question and a very poignant one

The ending is stark and powerful as well..this is great work

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Hi John,

Very powerful imagery!

{omit}[add]Suggestions may be torched  

My bed destitute warmth,
thick mutant covers,
cacoons that gently lull  cacoons or cocoons?
sleep into mysteries—
into mysteries, into mystery. I like the way you've drawn
this out.

I open my eyes; he stands
beads of sweat, bristles,
a swarthy chin.
His mouth opens— a forest
howling in a gale.  Bet that shocked him!  Great image!

Unshackled fire finds me:
impassive rain drizzles
from {a} molten core.
Eyes, chaffed split lips inside
scoured brain cells.

Am I alone? Do others peep
through frayed sheets?
I do not know. Do they turn
and go; lips atremble, unstable?
I see and hear them not.

A crystal tear wanders,
then drops to his breast,
body cleansed— he sighs…
then drives the  knife deep:
red— I hear sobs, I see red. I see this as a suicide, am I
right?

A volcanic spray— I see red.
Red lips twist, thin red vipers.  Again, great imagery!
‘I rule heaven and darkness
and all found therein.
I am a servant of God’! …  This is where I get confused.
The verse above indicates suicide or murder...of something
or someone...so how can he be a servant of God?   Am I
missing something here?


Someone turn on deLIGHT please (LOL couldn't resist)
Cathy

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi John

This has the feel of a very vivid scary nightmare.
[add] {delete}

My bed destitute warmth,
thick mutant covers,
cacoons that gently lull   ..(cocoons)
sleep into mysteries—
into mysteries, into mystery.

This verse takes the narrator from pleasant sleep to dreams.

I open my eyes; he stands[;]
beads of sweat, bristles,
{a} swarthy chin.
His mouth opens— a forest
howling in a gale.

a very chilling sight.  A very powerful image of his open mouth

Unshackled fire finds me:
impassive rain drizzles
from {a} molten core.
Eyes, chaffed split lips inside
scoured brain cells.

images change irrationally in nightmares, giving gruesome images.

Am I alone? Do others peep
through frayed sheets?
I do not know. Do they turn
and go; lips atremble, unstable?
I see and hear them not.

I can almost visualise you trembling peeking out from under the bedsheets

A crystal tear wanders,
then drops to his breast,
body cleansed— he sighs…
then drives the  knife deep:
red— I hear sobs, I see red.

brr, what frightening picture you paint of the appartition driving the knife in deep.  Is it into his own body or someone else's?

A volcanic spray— I see red.
Red lips twist, thin red vipers.
‘I rule heaven and darkness
and all found therein.
I am a servant of God’! …  

For some reason I get an image of perhaps the Devil/Satan with all the red and from the fire beforehand.

This feels even worse than my own nightmares which are pretty vivid.  Very powerful imagery indeed and quite a dramatic departure from your normal poetry

Thanks for the read, much enjoyed (hope I don't get nightmares tonight)

Nina

[Arnfinn]

Hi Lucie,

The Terrorist

'wading in clear water' (under the title)

Ever noticed when wading through water you usually look straight ahead, and not where your going, only where you want to go? If the water is clear, you can avoid accidents by  looking down at your feet and surroundings, and that way danger can be avoided.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I thought that the imagery in this poem was excellent..really powerful..leaving a stark, cold and lonely atmosphere, quite a nightmarish quality..this poem could be taken very literally as the scene which it describes or could be comprehended in many differerent ways..a past that haunts someone through their dreams, thoughts or memories, or maybe that's just me!


My bed destitute warmth,
thick mutant covers,
cacoons that gently lull
sleep into mysteries—
into mysteries, into mystery.

(A poem of singular form, though my explantory notes are written, in a general, collective form)

(Everyone makes their own bed and lies in it. Many changes  have been happening around us; slowly, inchmeal, bit by bit, terrorism has evolved and unfortunately  many of us have not been awake or taken interest. That is until it is too late.)

You have the right idea, cold, change, not really interested, then sudden stark reality at the horror of death and destruction.

................................................................................
.........

.................

I open my eyes; he stands
beads of sweat, bristles,
a swarthy chin.
His mouth opens— a forest
howling in a gale. brilliant lines..great impact

There is a feel of the narrator almost detatching from the scene which he is describing and seeing it as an onlooker..it's very well done.

( We've seen terrorists on TV, their faces usually are covered-up, their dialogue starts abruptly and continues on like a gale and finishes abruptly, then starts again. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.)
You read this correctly Luce, exactly. The true terrorist: one God, one faith, one life, one God.
................................................................................
.........

.................
I loved this part

Am I alone? Do others peep
through frayed sheets?
I do not know. Do they turn
and go; lips atremble, unstable?
I see and hear them not. quite a universal question and a very poignant one

The ending is stark and powerful as well..this is great work


What we have here are the thoughts of the person (people) facing terrorism. "Am I alone" This also could refer to anyone living in a terrorist country. 'Am I alone'?  Does anybody care? Are people observing, conscious of what's going on? Or do they Know, but leave with frowns. I, (we) dont know?

The answer to the first question is: yes. Terrorist's strike without warning, anywhere, anytime.

I'm glad you understood the poem and the last stanza.


Thank you for the kind words Lucy.

I appreciate your visit

John


 :wizard:

[Arnfinn]

Hi Cath,


My bed destitute warmth,
thick mutant covers,
cacoons that gently lull  cacoons or cocoons?
sleep into mysteries—
into mysteries, into mystery. I like the way you've drawn
this out.

A mysterious third dimension, Cathy. Cocoons, I must remember think as a dictionary not as an Australian.


I open my eyes; he stands
beads of sweat, bristles,
a swarthy chin.
His mouth opens— a forest
howling in a gale.  Bet that shocked him!  Great image!

A long loud tirade, as seen on TV.

Unshackled fire finds me:
impassive rain drizzles
from {a} molten core.


John  :wizard:

[Arnfinn]

Hi Nina,


This has the feel of a very vivid scary nightmare.
[add] {delete}

My bed destitute warmth,
thick mutant covers,
cacoons that gently lull   ..(cocoons)


John  :goodwitch:  :wizard:

[Cleo_Serapis]

WOW John,

A very interesting piece here!  :troy:  Your title is perfect because it can mean so many different things and that's what i admire about this piece.

Nightmares, screams, panic building up..is it real or a dream?

These lines:

Unshackled fire finds me:
impassive rain drizzles
from a molten core.

and

A crystal tear wanders,
then drops to his breast,
body cleansed— he sighs…

really drive it home - putting emotion into a cohesive visual.  :pharoah2

Your ending has me slightly puzzled:

I am a servant of God....


Is he a servant or a lost soul?

~Cleo  :gandalfg:

[Arnfinn]

Hi Lori,

Terrorists- Religious terrorists believe there is only one God, their God,  :(  They take their life as a sacrifice to their belief. They are a slave to religion. After death, the bigger the carnage, the larger the death toll, the more mangled and maimed, the publicity, the revulsion, means, their death will be recorded and remembered.


John    :troy:

[Aphrodite]

Hello John~

Wow, wow, wow! :pharoah2  :pharoah2

This is such a powerful poem with incredible images behind poignant words!

I would not change a thing as your words pour out as deeply as the blood soaked reality of terrorism.

A crystal tear wanders,
then drops to his breast,
body cleansed— he sighs…
then drives the  knife deep:
red— I hear sobs, I see red.

A volcanic spray— I see red.
Red lips twist, thin red vipers.
‘I rule heaven and darkness
and all found therein.
I am a servant of God’! …  

A fantastic read!

Take care~
Lindi