Sharing for The Sunday Muse #163.
Hooves thud in her body,
leather snaps in the steel;
Midnight runs through her fingers
like horses through the leaves.
Call up the wild hunting dark,
Call up the deer and the spark;
A myth races the heart.
So this week saw both our first in-person writers' meeting (for WordCrafters) since...well, you know. The rain has been heinous in Texas lately (my mother-in-law called a few days ago with a story about how the lightbulb in the kitchen had turned red during a sudden thunderstorm...that is going in a story at some point) and there was a slight break Wednesday afternoon. It's a beautiful morning today, as well, meaning Arthur can go outside rather than hiding under desks and crawling into laps.
Anyway. A story is swirling around my ankles, trying to decide whether to run away or snap at my toes or snooze itself larger in a nearby notebook. And I think that she's playing a myth, above. Trying to find the fingering that will let it breathe just as she does. And maybe that myth is about the way the world once again recreates itself after the flood.
-- Chrissa
You make such word magic!
ReplyDeleteThis is powerful and elegantly beautiful Chrissa. Wonderful write!
ReplyDeleteChrissa, this is overwhelming and reaches depths one can only fantasize ... notes are stellar as well.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love how you showcased the power and magnificence of a cellist and her cello without using the obvious terms. This is what beautiful and amazing poetry can do! I love love love this my friend! I am super excited about our meetings too! I am looking forward to your story that holds a lightbulb turned red. I know it will be goose bump worthy!!
ReplyDeleteAh, the Wild Hunt!
ReplyDeleteOooh! Oooh! Esp the 2nd line: "leather snaps in the steel;" - awesome.
ReplyDeleteAnother Whoozier, luv the way this prompt moved you out into the wild.
ReplyDeleteMuch💛love
Powerful and magical scenes invoked by your poetry - love it.
ReplyDeleteThe darkness of the image is represented so well in your poem, Chrissa.
ReplyDeleteLove the intensity of your poem. It so fits playing the cello.
ReplyDeleteLove the allusion of intensity to that of a stallion, Chrissa! You captured it
ReplyDeletetruly especially with the closed eyes in concentration
Hank
My favorite, "A myth races the heart!!) I love tales, happenings and beings that do that.
ReplyDeleteWe've had bad winds with our rain also, it blew down a part of our wooden fence.
And our vegetation hasn't completely recovered or been replaced since the big freeze.
p.s. I hope you get a bigger book. We wish we had written the things that my MIL
had said. I have written some of her stories for blog posts (other active blog). She
died in 2009.
..
Brilliant. So much power in those words.
ReplyDeleteBewitched!!!
ReplyDeleteYour words absolutely dazzle!
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful poem. Love midnight running like horses through the leaves!
ReplyDelete