Tropic Of Capricorn

By Dynamaso

Thu, 10 Mar 2011
  • 1071 reads
6 comments
 

The road is
a black tar snake
tapering to the horizon;
to oblivion and beyond.

The car radio plays
ghosts of songs,
fading in and out;
fallen transmissions.

Out here, nothing lives
except flies staining
the windscreen
with their remains.

The fire we left
stains the sky behind;
indian ink on
eggshell blue.

In the rear-view,
the world disappears,
like failed memories;
a vast in reverse.

Out here, there isn’t
much distance between
god and the devil;
it all burns regardless.

Life is reversed;
unmoved by
modern society,
the land is ageless.

There are clouds
on the ground
and great lakes
in the sky.

Out here,
time means nothing;
all life moves past,
lost in transit.

Certificate U
Poem
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
I like this, Dynamaso...giving the reader much to think about in each stanza. My two favourite, I guess, are these:- "The fire we left stains the sky behind; indian ink on eggshell blue." "There are clouds on the ground and great lakes in the sky." Some great imagery here. Tina

 

Submitted by fatboy74 on
Very fond of the stanza: Out here, there isn’t much distance between god and the devil; it all burns regardless. Another really enjoyable poem Dynamaso, has real sense of place. :-)

 

Submitted by Dynamaso on
Tina, I'm pleased this gave you pause for thought. Thanks for your continual support - much appreciated.

 

Submitted by Dynamaso on
Fatboy, you've picked my favourite of the 'chorus' stanzas. I really pleased you enjoyed this and thank you for commenting too.

 

Submitted by shoe on
Nicely captures a sense of desolation, and I like the use of the car to set the scenes and each neat 4 line stanza structure, much enjoyed.

 

Submitted by Dynamaso on
Thanks for your comments, Shoe. This is partly written based on memories of crossing the Nullabor Plain, here in Australia.