Wednesday, December 2, 2009

I meet Ingi

I meet Ingi,
stumbling down
from the opposite blend
of a tumbled path
paved with impatient falling
matters.

Nearer,
our split-bottom steps tingle
from the crumbling glass,
as slivered gum-ball ends
spike bronze gowns
of brittle leaves.

We swear to sea,
and shake frowns
till our best parts do bend,
toppling humble hats
where waves diverge, to grow then
flatter.

4 comments:

mule said...

I have only read a few poets, WB Yeats and my favorite, Walt Whitman. I can't say I always understand the poems here, but this felt good.

Jenny said...

I am very fond of the second stanza. The poem's imagery and rythm have a billowy, sea-subtle feeling. Ethereal but also firm.

Francis Scudellari said...

@mule It's definitely more about the feeling than the understanding with this one.

@Jenny Thanks. I had a few images in mind, but then the words took me in their own direction.

Jukka said...

A fine feeling. I feel like this often. Because of the sea. I am a professional diver. Poems about sea is very nice to me to read. I like this blog very much. Lots of fine poets.