As dayspring swallows darkness
light hangs curdled, olivine
like the toxic breath of gods.
On the piazza’s edge
a callous sun splits the arcades:
white hot stucco; charcoal ashlar.
A wagon stands iron-wheeled
and empty, the beast not long gone
its warm dung still steaming.
In the street a clockwork child
bowls her hoop along an egg-yellow
avenue of innocence.
Her pulse is clotted, beatless
her childhood stiff as a stick.
Dissonance rapes the stillness.
The poke of a growing shadow
looms black as sin, its saurian tail
flicking the ground with lust.
Lips curled, hackles matted
the prowling creature drools
behind the cool colonnade.
Inside the box I crouch, twisted
flawed, braced in the corner
waiting for the scream.
Excellent Peter! I won't forget the feel of this one anytime soon.
ReplyDelete*shivers* A wonderfully evocative capture that will indeed stay with me for a while. 'As dayspring swallows darkness
ReplyDeletelight hangs curdled, olivine
like the toxic breath of gods.' ~ brilliant!
Another peice of beautifully chilling writing!
ReplyDelete'Saurian tail' fascinating!
Thanks for sharing. Abi :)
Thanks Diana ~ so pleased you enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteyep - you felt the creepy atmosphere in the pic as well...i much like the clockwork child, the avenue of innocence and the dissonance raping stillness..chilly write peter
ReplyDeleteGruesome and stunning, Peter. Your ability to capture a painting with words, never ceases to amaze me. The menace throughout left me shuddering. And as usual your phrase and word choices are unique and evocative. Well done, my friend. Haven't seen one of yours in a while. It was worth the wait. :-)
ReplyDeleteSincere thanks for your lovely comments Louise ~ really appreciated.
ReplyDeleteMany thanks Abi ~ it is Carl Jung who refers to our Shadow as the invisible Saurian tail that man (sic) drags behind him.
ReplyDeleteI certainly did Claudia ~ thank you so much for such positive comments.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Heidi, for such wonderful comments. Quite a daunting task to try & recreate the mysterious atmosphere of such an incredible painting. So pleased you enjoyed & connected with it.
ReplyDeleteChilling, cold evening sunlight! But what's more spooky is that the poem immerses the reader in barely hidden depths of something far more more sombre. I'm inclined to think that a young innocent reader, who has not engaged with their mortality yet, might see a wholly less chilling picture; I wonder?
ReplyDeleteIt is a magnificent poem, Peter. One of your five maybe?
Thank you for your extremely positive & thoughtful comments, John. I'm not sure if it is a fear of death that pervades De Chirico's painting or a fear of life, much like Munch's 'Scream'. As for it being one of my five, that's a difficult one, as I never look back on any poem that I've created with complete satisfaction. Choosing five is going to be almost impossible!
ReplyDeleteI had to stifle my own screams with this one. Spectral and haunting. The color images are unusual and outstanding. Masterful writing, Peter!
ReplyDeleteThank you ever so much Jacquie ~ pleased you like the De Chirico painting too.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this poem immensely! Wonderfully written as you captured so much of the depth within the painting, and between each blink of eye. Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteThanks ever so much for your lovely comments, David ~ really pleased that you enjoyed my poem.
ReplyDeleteI'm no poet, or art critic for that matter, but i know what stimulates me. I'll bet that many would agree that while this painting can stand alone it is made better by your words. Truly a privilege and honor to read & experience!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for such lovely, positive feedback. Really pleased that you connected with both the painting and my poem.
ReplyDeleteVery much enjoyed your poetic rendering of Chirico's painting.
ReplyDelete