Survivors

Survivors

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Speaking in Ninths


by Steve King           
© 2011
All rights reserved


Voices never did quite mesh.
Whether one uplifted,
one drew the other down
toward an awkward median—
how is one to say?

Close.
A ritual chant perhaps,
some might have taken for a song.

Or just two lines
of strange accompaniment,
converging accidentals,
without that binding melody.

The strains remain at hand,
resonant within a realm
where echoes are relentless
and background chords
still drift beneath old moods.
Strains,
pianissimo,
in dark solo refrain…

Not disharmony, no:

Both moon and sun
might share a changing sky.
One must surely slip.

18 comments:

  1. nice...i like the texture of music to this but it feels about so much more than just that...esp considering that last stanza as you bring the heavens into it...very well penned...

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  2. Exquisitely extended and elaborated upon metaphor here-- bravo. xxxj

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  3. hey Steve

    the ending has some real poetic whip and caught my eye fast...laced in with some well crafted metaphor and smart stanzas that are a pleasure to read...well measured work.

    all the best

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  4. So. Beautiful.

    Everything can be and is music.

    I like the "strange accompaniment" image. Reminds me of some of my favorite parts of songs.

    Thanks so much for sharing!

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  5. The music sure does play today at your bay, letting the moon and sun sway, was also a nicely added display.

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  6. You gifted, gifted man! This is a gem of a write! Musical and mysterious, like I have seen but a corner of the veil lifted, and now must know more. To bring the sun and the moon together takes great power...hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and may we see more of this in 2012!

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  7. A cacophony of harmony here for me. A little like listening to Glass for the first time. Like that daring bit about the moon and sun sharing the sky ...and one slips...Interesting write, Steve. :)) Good wishes for the New Year!

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  8. the harmony of disharmony, all the individual threads of life weaving together. perhaps "weaving" is the wrong word, still the effect is the same. the last stanza added a new texture, a visual compliment. enjoyed this very much

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  9. The title nails the strange, nearly-though-not-quite-harmony of what is being reached for here, a music whose relation is almost to strange to name but is present nonetheless. Ninths indeed. -B

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  10. Lovely write Steve. I like how you always capture the elusive and ethereal thoughts - in this instance, musical strains or chants ~

    Wishing you Cheers for the new year ~

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  11. oh i hope none of them slips...great metaphor here...the play on music..harmonic - disharmonic...much enjoyed steve..

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  12. A subtle and mesmerizing tone to this one, a restrained sadness, a yearning for more in the middle of realistic resignation(ah, those last lines...)and the musical metaphor is flawless...haunting, even, like a tune in the subconscious that replays whether you listen or not, till it makes you listen. Fine writing here, my friend.

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  13. Although playing music is in my past, metaphors drawn from it always delight me. This has a mystical play to it, Steve, like plainsong. Life is at times dissonant but wonderful.

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  14. Wow. Exquisite in its melancholy. Really beautiful write.

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  15. very enjoyable read - it had a great texture and tone - the images and thoughts were so well constructed! nicely done and great to see it at dVerse

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  16. Steve, thanks for stopping by my blog, and sorry to catch up with you so much later.

    This is gorgeous writing. I'm a musician and singer as well, so I very much connected with those references. Finally, the sun and moon sharing the same sky... the slipping... fantastic writing. I'm taking a break soon for a move, but have one for you if you like. Peace, Amy
    http://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/12/30/fred-weintraub-will-never-rest-in-peace-or-otherwise/

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  17. Great title and poem, Steve. I especially like the 4th stanza.

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  18. just thought i'd swing by and say hello... hope you had a good start into the new year..

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