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Heron Clan: November 28, 2021, Yellow Wings, Tile Moss Stone Path
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Heron Clan Readings Sunday Zoom Somewhere in my wandering I listened to a poet that said,Kainai Blood Tribe Yellow Wings is a family surname. Direct Niitsitapi translation is "when you walk in the forest and see sun light rays reflected up from still waters" Yellow Wings is the closest English translation.
Yellow Wings
Light reflecting up through leaves
Reflects up from still water
Carried up
Through the wings of the tree
Fluttering
Flapping.
The tree
Rooted in its decaying bed
its leaves floating off
In the aviary light
Catches the yellow winged light
On its yellowing fingers
colored like painted nails
In orange and lime green.
The tree
Waves
bye bye
to its freed feathers.
Tiles in the Moss
Tiles in the moss
Buried so deep to disappear
Waiting for the archelogist trowel
The brush and the quick query
Why a path here in this field
No house standing?
The trowel wands to the left
To the right
Searching for clues
a foundation
to base a life on
None appears in the thicket brush
the hard clay
Just a stone path in a field
With nothing to say.
Stone Path
Stones in the moss
Buried so deep to disappear
Marking a path
Through a coombe
Waiting for the archelogist trowel
To discover the roadway
between two lovers'
Lives.
The brush and the quick query,
Why a path here in this valley
No house standing
The trowel wands to the left
To the right,
Searches for clues,
a foundation
to base a life on,
Misses the small print
of a woman trod.
No house post appears
In the deep lush woodland
Just a stone path in a field
With they think
nothing to say.
Larry's Coffee Live Poetry Event
Saturday December 11
3pm to 5 pm
at Larrys Coffee Gavin Street
near Raleigh Five Points
"Yellow Wings". Now that's a
"Yellow Wings". Now that's a metaphor that goes above and beyond the call of duty and leaves me breathless. The structure of the poem itself seems to ascend, to escape the grip of branches . . . and summer's bed of security.
The active descriptions, beaming through your radiant eye, is more than stunning and innovative metaphors, although, in themselves, they are praiseworthy works of art. But through them you illustrate a deeper meaning: the throes of death transforming into wings of gold, throwing off the bonds of an old life represented by the roots' "decaying bed" and finally, with carefree finesse, rising to freedom.
Glorious work.
The next two poems share a similar theme. (One an edit or a continuation?) Both are remarkable, but I was captivated by "Tiles in the Moss" because of its elegance, clarity and compressed mystery. To end with a charming yet powerful image of a stone path, then simply: "With nothing to say." was pure brilliance.
Sorry I haven't visited for a while. Obviously you still got it. Wonderful work.
Thank you
I love your critics The yellow Wings is the english translation from an Indian dialect that means light reflected up from still waters through leaves. I wrote the actual reference I used when I updated this post with the proper tribe it was ascribed to. My memory fails me and my computer un-sauvey wont allow a quick glance at the post lol Its such a distinct description.
The 2 poems are as you saids studies on the same subject. the last has a personal touch with bringing in a person to the poem. I asked my group when I read it which they preferred. They perferred the 2nd one.
Thank you for visiting. Time flies. Your insights are much appreciated.
Debbie
I appreciate the background
I appreciate the background on the first poem. It's even more sublime knowing the reference. All your poems are works of art.