Monday, July 9, 2007

The Loon's Cry

In the forest, massive trees fall
In crashes of utter silence
While a warbling vibrato
Echoes across the lake.

Releasing rapid transitions
That demand all that is something,
And all that is nothing
To ken to the sound.

Forego auditory interpretation.
This resonance seeks
With greater intensity
Innermost faculties of the soul.

When there is nothing to hear it
That absence of life
That absence of being
Stops in its tracks.

Steeped in the magical impact of
Singular sounds kneaded together...

The jolly laughing
And the friendless sobbing
Of a loon.


A particular circumstance in my life inspired this poem. I will tell you about it in my next post.


Matty said...

Nothing can compare with the sound of a loon at night when you're camping. After giving him the elbow a few times, he finally stops the snoring and goes to sleep!
Can't wait for the post.

Roberta S said...

Hi matty. Hope you're not disappointed.

Pauline said...

That must have been some powerful lightning bolt because it knocked my phone out til Monday, too! I only got the automated lady, though. And I have DSL so I could still use the computer. Love the poem's 4th stanza!

Roberta S said...

Hi pauline. Man, maybe it was the same - a rogue lightning bolt, like a rogue wave, whipping about doing equal damage here there and everywhere.

As for my poem, I don't write poetry often but I totally trust your expertise and always welcome your critiques. Thanks for commenting.