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and we rode off down the road to reason
why such a thing could occur in our minds,
how such a place as this was could falter
in scope, to diminish down to tawdry
fright here where none had ever been alone
we thought, or so it seemed, we slipped over
silver-clad stirrups and belly straps and
accelerated our flight, clacking hooves
ground gravel sprayed into roadside ditches,
disturbed hovels of mosquito madness,
stagnant black water in waves of deranged
derangement, in that, we wondered behind
us but time whiffed, by God, so bloody fast
we hardly noticed our feet slipped from bone-
hard spurs and we shouted into the din,
eyes sideways to one another, glanced we
ahead deep into lamp blacked polished shade
toward creators and destroyers of
all this madness, over scribbling scribes and
then some, unseen half-men, clappers in fear
who cared not, so what,if we rode to Hell;
it was no skin off their souls,day trippers
they were, and we left them behind, galloped
past faces covered in fresh muddied dust;
and night shifted, shifted well, slid downwind
in minutes, by degrees, and we became
long riders, surveyors of some far end
to which they would have us fear, and we
would not, could not argue their fallacy,
their affirmation of the consequent,
we dare not stop, not now, these moments come
on alidades turning to find their way
to square walls of great height and ceilings
of sight for visionless souls and such shrews,
tails tucked short, burrowed beneath their conscience,
could not tunnel their way through shreds of faith
to find what we’ve sought since our collective
exit from Eden, but we determined
to place our hands in sharp fire when it came,
alive, ready to crisp us starchy white:
(ice burns its own selfsame way does it not);
anyway, what need we of seasons here
if we are gristmill bound to turn always
tread in tracks of our own manmade bondage,
and we could not slack in this stark knowledge
or slow our ride or tighten our reins now,
not when this road was soon to come to ends,
no, and when we arrived where all will be,
we pulled a stainless needle from its wall
and peeked through the veil with focused eye
who saw a sliver of light, not fire, bright
enough for all who looked to know it true,
the Sun would rise again, tomorrow comes.



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Comments

The following comments are for "It was a dark and stormy night"
by williamhill

exit from Eden
so many superb lines here give the poem a fevered fire and brimstone pace and a sense of imminent apocalypse... which, in this case, is a good thing.

favourite line is "it was no skin off their souls, day trippers" which is just genius 'cause... it just is.

I guess I read this as the descent of man (in an other than Darwinian sense), his flight from the garden… though I don't think I really "get" it yet, I like the feel of it, its dark brooding and many implications... fine poetry this, I'm sure to return.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: February 7, 2007 )

Bulwer-Lytton or Snoopy?
A most interesting offering, perhaps a challenge to reason, or any other school of thought, run rampant. The title implies notably horrible writing, be it by man or dog. Your poem belies its title.

( Posted by: drsoos [Member] On: February 7, 2007 )

Carry on or quit
The title sets the mood very well. It raises a question in my mind, I'm not sure if this the clear moment when these characters decide to give up, or when they decide to NOT give up and to carry on. A puzzling paradox. I think paradox must be the word of the week for me; I've used it a lot lately and it seems to pop up in whatever I'm reading these days, literally or figurative.

This has a nice pace, and it rants just enough for a "Hell, yeah, brother".

BW

( Posted by: BWOz [Member] On: February 7, 2007 )

It was a dark and stormy Bull-yer
Soos, Have you ever entered their contest? I've often thought about it over the years. Wouldn't a thread be fun? The title stuck in my mind a couple of weeks ago. Sorry. Of course there is more going on here than meets the eye, but I will wait to tell. TANKS for stooping by.
charlie.

Shannon, I worked really hard on this darn thing,wrote it in blank verse, and tried to carry on some sort of iamb/foot rhythm. I also mixed in some Gerard Manley Hopkins sprung rhythm with the running rhythm. Broke some rules, I guess. It still scans OK. Thanks,

charlie


BW, Thanks for reading. These paradoxs keep tearing my guts out lately. there is much to digest and expel with this one.Later.

charlie

( Posted by: williamhill [Member] On: February 8, 2007 )

the vision
The vision is very deep, far reaching, and a third and fourth read reveals more. This is one that reads like a great journey, but very close to home in many ways.

Sometimes courage is nothing but fear in action.

BW

( Posted by: BWOz [Member] On: February 11, 2007 )





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