Ode to Gaia (sestina)

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  • Nature

    Ode to Gaia (sestina)



    I woke to soft mists over the river,
    A chilled, liquid, world where dew falls as rain
    From the trees in muted musical notes
    And the air is faintly luminescent…
    A surreal place of contrasts and shadows
    In pastel hues applied with a soft brush.

    I kneel beside last night’s campfire and brush
    Away ash, which settles on the river…
    A fine, white, snow swirling in dark shadows
    Of mist and water…a breeze brings more rain,
    Drops hissing on coals, red and luminescent
    As birds announce the sunrise with bright notes.

    Upon my pad, a monarch reads my notes.
    Later in the day, I will hear the brush
    Of its wings in my mind, luminescent
    Beats, which bubble in memory’s river.
    Another breeze and more dew falls as rain,
    Some glimmering pale gold in the shadows.

    Slowly, the mists flow into the shadows,
    There to sleep ‘till crickets play the first notes
    Of tomorrow…dew is no longer rain,
    Each drop a glowing gem at the first brush
    Of the sun, which also turns the river
    Into gold, molten and luminescent.

    No better word would do…luminescent…
    Glittering light dances where once shadows
    And mists were pastels over the river…
    And the music! Nature’s symphonic notes!
    The birds, the river and the whisk-whisk brush
    Of leaves form harmonies as soft, warm rain.

    Sadness fills me and tears fall as rain.
    These days are fragile things, luminescent
    Once-was-could be’s…for man chooses to brush
    Such beauty aside…he prefers shadows,
    His music consists of discordant notes
    Of waste which pollutes earth, air and river.

    Beautiful the river! How sweet the rain!
    I’ll record these notes in luminescent
    Script and soft shadows, with my soul the brush!

    © ewrichardson 2006

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    JAlden commented on Ode to Gaia (sestina)

    05-19-2009

    Very good! An extremely dream-like poem! I thought it was great! Although I will say you used the word "luminescent" a little too much (this isn't a big problem, just make sure you're using the word in proper context like you almost forgot in line 15-16 where it sounds like the beats are emanating light) but other than that, I loved it! Generally I'm not one for nature poems, but this really captured the beauty of it. Great job! :D

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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