Archive for January, 2010

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Eurydice’s Ode For Orpheus

January 28, 2010

Always blaming me for your
looking back –
does your sternocleidomastoid
bow to my bidding?
No, you are your own musculature’s master,
if nothing else.
Did you not know the rules
before you began?
A simple task,
your own cunning –
still too much for
mere mortal man –
and I’m the weaker sex?

I?!

I am here vulnerable
only to your folly –
only a few steps more without
needing my approval
and you could have toyed forevermore
with my existance,
had me – helpless female –
at your pleasure.

Maybe one day here in darkness
Hades will ask me what I miss from the world of
light

– I will think of you,
sunlight dancing off your hair as you
turn back towards me
and answer truthfully –

nothing.

Written 20 Jan 09 – ER

Orpheus and Euridice by George Frederick Watts RA (1817-1904). Oil on canvas: 22 x 30 inches; 56 x 76 cm.

[This poem will make a whole lot more sense if you know the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, a story rarely told from Eurydice’s perspective.  You can read the myth like a love story.  Or you can start to ask questions.  Who says Eurydice even wanted to go back with Orpheus?!  Typical male, he just assumes that she does.  At least, this is the feminist perspective from which the poem is written – whether I agree with it or not.  I was influenced in writing this poem by poems such as Eurydice by HD and the fabulous fabulous work of Margaret Atwood (“You could not believe I was more than your echo” – perfect), among other fabulous female poets who dare to put a new slant on old stories.]

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Wellington-Self

January 7, 2010

This city misses you
It’s once-child
Wide eyes newthought-brimming
Opening books like dreams
Sun-dreaming
Held by wind that tears you –

Seaspray, madness:
Warm freedom.

Crawl back now in
New life’s momentpause
Calmed by storms-eye healing
Gale force whispers recall
Once-dreams, forgotten,
Songs on stony hills –
Life-drowned.

This city remembers you
To yourself
Your song-core, hidden
In tears of years and
Theory, hardened;
Calls out from you your
Word-self, rhythm –
Your one-time driver.

Cool zephyrs ever-present
Relentless, coolbreeze-asking:
Where you went
Deep parts of you
Betrayed by facts-experiment
Could here in gentle rebirth take,
In salty windswept arms, you in
Sweet murmurs ask for choice
Remember: self-songs
Please – come home.

Written 9 July 08 – ER

Photo from Wellington waterfront by ER

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Magdalene

January 4, 2010

 

What if I am the daughter of God
made in Her own image,
what if I heal grazed knees and
feed masses with one fish
behind closed doors –

not preaching loud on mountaintops,
just doing quietly in kitchens
what you speak loud on every corner –
who do you think it was that picked up
the tables once overturned,
who washed and cared for Lazarus,
once arisen?

What if I, not needing to proclaim,
did unwritten,
while you, needing to be written of,
did out loud –

even your death was displayed.

I died too.  After you.

No one remembers how.  No one has forsaken me.

Written 28 April 09 – ER