And from his mind
flew the sound
of anguish breaking
As the river swelled
over pastures aching
In the air
hung the sound
of magic working
In the trees
burned the eyes
of spirits lurking
But nothing moved
in the night
that wasn't seen
For no one lived
in this life
that was a dream
Comments
ItsSteveDave | July 31, 2012 - 13:49
I like this PT, it is simple and effective, but allows plenty of room for interpretation. First I thought you might have been at WOMAD on the weekend, what with the title and all, and still after the first three stanzas. Then something else took over - maybe night fell? At a festival, I find everything changes at night...
That's my interpretation anyway!
Parson Thru | July 31, 2012 - 18:48
Hi Steve. I love your interpretation. I was at WOMAD. The atmosphere sure does change at night. But not so much for the worse there. More magical for sure. I tried to keep it as open as possible with just a feeling and a suggestion of magic. Glad you liked it. That makes it worthwhile.
magicdarer | August 29, 2012 - 17:58
Mysterious. Took a couple of readings at least two form my understanding of the last two stanzas. I like the way it couples visual and sound metaphor for what seems to be a real person's experience, but then says there were no ghosts at all this night. Thats my reading of it. Nice taut mysterious poem.
Parson Thru | August 29, 2012 - 21:30
Thanks magic. Sometimes the words just tumble out if you know what I mean. I suppose a psychoanalyst might have a few thoughts but they know more about us than exists.