Skip to main content

Clouds Come Rolling

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #198. Come & see what the poets are up to. :) 


Against the razor of yesterday's beat,
back and forth, strop until it snaps--
that old cobweb, 
the seat restraint on memory.

Clouds come rolling
grumbling at the window

Can't catch the rain, can't hold us.
Lead us to the water, sing us
cleaner than the curb
just laid to slick the drowner's path.

Clouds come rolling
fumbling at the roofline

Feel the prick of passing through
down the streets where no cars go,
river man calling,
sliding loose down all the concrete

Clouds come rolling
humbling wall and window

Clouds come rolling
Clouds come rolling

Greeting and salutations! It's been a week of discordantly trying to write my way around a growing sense that books are an "ancient technology" better suited to the discount racks at Goodwill and a strong sense that I need to find a place to experience poetry in the wild, in nearby readings. My brother says that I what I need is more book discussion and less...I don't know. Staring at the wall, maybe (you can't see our walls). Seriously, it would take an archaeologist to find my walls. Maybe spring cleaning is on the agenda. Are the walls interesting enough to discover them? Will they reveal secrets about the past couple of years that are valuable to know?  

Hope your week is full of good discussion and interesting walls. :) 

--Chrissa

Comments

  1. Carrie Van HornFebruary 12, 2022 at 7:51 AM

    I can really feel this Chrissa. You have given the real storms out the window a deeper feel and life. as life can be full of many storms. I love this! I say we have more writer discussions, and get togethers the second we can. It would take an archeologist to get to my walls too, you are not alone there.

    ReplyDelete
  2. robkistnerFebruary 12, 2022 at 12:28 PM

    This is so powerful Chrissa. Such a probing perspective, close to the heart and bone. Loved its rolling, rolling, rolling!

    ReplyDelete
  3. qbitFebruary 12, 2022 at 2:20 PM

    "Against the razor of yesterday's beat, / back and forth, strop until it snaps" is great. And all the "Clouds come rolling" lines that refrain, that roll in on us as we read.

    ReplyDelete
  4. ms_liliFebruary 12, 2022 at 4:48 PM

    Your poem crackles like lightning in the storm. Very lively writing, Chrissa!

    ReplyDelete
  5. .February 12, 2022 at 6:40 PM

    ´ Against the razor of yesterday's beat,'
    Wow!!!

    ReplyDelete
  6. JimFebruary 12, 2022 at 9:12 PM

    My wall claim is to, "cleaner than the curb just laid to slick the drowner's path," seems
    some of them are, at least something for the drowner to stubble and fall on.
    Seriously leaning on walls with dirty hand support is one of my pet peeves.
    Libraries are a good source of reading for free, many are on Kindle at ours.
    I love your word, "drowner", I think it can have two meanings.
    ..

    ReplyDelete
  7. HelenFebruary 13, 2022 at 7:19 AM

    I love when ‘notes’ extend the ‘story’ of a poem, as yours often do. Razor strop resonates deeply in my mind .. remembering tales my mother told me of her younger brothers suffering under its mighty power.

    ReplyDelete
  8. hedgewitchFebruary 13, 2022 at 7:42 AM

    You show how effective repetition can be in this powerful mood piece which is also a word painting that has great delicacy and detail. I am blown away especially by your stanza end lines..."the seat restraint on memory," indeed. Whatever is hiding the walls may be only doing its job.

    ReplyDelete
  9. FireblossomFebruary 13, 2022 at 10:45 AM

    "fumbling at the roof line"

    i will never see clouds as not fumbling again.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Gillena CoxFebruary 13, 2022 at 11:25 AM

    Luv everything that happened when "clouds come rolling"
    Have a good Sunday Chrissa

    Much love...

    ReplyDelete
  11. purplepeninportland.comFebruary 18, 2022 at 5:16 PM

    The build up to this is powerful. Love,

    "Clouds come rolling
    fumbling at the roofline"

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa
14 comments
Read more

Fearsome by Survival

  Sharing today with T he Sunday Muse #189 , where Shay is hosting. Come and read and share a piece! On a web-white, wool-quiet morning I found the girl our stories gave us The one who survived She wore the meadow, carded and sewn Long since burned for field Still, she knew me Her stories named me fierce, feral She might have feared  The one who devours Neither of us spoke, patient at morning Breath, warmth, silence Innocent of power We know the stories kill us both We know that we become Fearsome by survival Hello and welcome. It's 67 degrees outside this morning and a warm December weekend might seem like the kind of thing that would prevent me from following through on a plan to hibernate with a good book for the rest of the weekend...but it's the doomscrolling that's run down the charge on my phone that's preventing me from doing that. Also, I may have developed an intolerance to long stretches of quiet during the past year and a half.  Anyway. Looking forward to r...
16 comments
Read more

Need

  Sharing with this week's The Sunday Muse #184 . Come celebrate Halloween with verse and The Muse.  I don't think the lantern needed the day; I needed the night: Lit and close and dark and smelling of faraway fires. I needed the smoky flicker that darkened the late-season field I needed the thin linen dress someone else's jacket hides; I needed the nested shadow; not blue, clear sight. It's already a spooky weekend: one window wedged itself just open enough for the breeze to moan beneath, James heard a drone last night (according to him, circling and circling the neighborhood without lights), and our sometimes neighbors have started to set up their backyard for whatever festivities they're planning for Halloween weekend. So...tomorrow (Halloween) will be a good day to read through the books picked up at the local author Spooktacular hosted by a used bookstore not far from here and to say a few final prayers before NaNo begins. Also, celebrating another zine draft r...
13 comments
Read more