Always the Clouds

JMW Turner, “Norham Castle Sunrise

 

 

Always the clouds come, drifting

colored in the hazy shades of ever-after,

yet distant stars glimmer through, sifting

light diffused from ancient gas and matter,

 

colored in the hazy shades of ever-after

time travels on, translucent or opaque

light diffused from ancient gas and matter,

and so, we ache

 

as time travels on. Translucent or opaque,

our thoughts grow dimmer to dark,

and so, we ache—

forgetting glory, gone our spark.

 

Our thoughts grow dimmer to dark

muttering and sputtering of past wrongs,

forgetting glory. Gone the spark

of former days and daisy chains and songs.

 

Muttering and sputtering of past wrongs,

we dream in owl-feathered night

of former days and daisy chains and songs–

then wait for lark-trilled light.

 

We dream in owl-feathered night,

as distant stars glimmer through, sifting

(our thoughts) as we wait for lark-trilled light,

but always the clouds come, drifting.

 

 

This is for Peter’s prompt on dVerse. He’s asked us to think about sound. Kerfe had me thinking of pantoums, and so I revised one that I wrote in April.

The Clouds Come Drifting, NaPoWriMo2020, Day 5

800px-joseph_mallord_william_turner_-_norham_castle_sunrise_-_wga23182

JMW Turner, “Norham Castle Sunrise

 

“A few stars glimmered through the morn,

And down the thorn the dews were streaming.”

–Francis Ledwidge, “The Dead Kings”

 

Always the clouds come, drifting

colored in the hazy shades of after

though stars glimmer through, sifting

light diffused from ancient gas and matter,

 

colored in the hazy shades of after

time moves on, translucent or opaque—

light diffused from ancient gas and matter,

and so, we ache.

 

Time moves on. Translucent or opaque,

our thoughts grow dim and dark

and so, we ache—

forgetting glory, gone the spark,

 

our thoughts grow dim and dark

with spite, thinking of past wrongs,

forgetting glory. Gone the spark

of dead kings and their songs.

 

With spite, thinking of past wrongs,

we dream in owl-feathered night

of dead kings and their songs,

and wait for lark-trilled light.

 

We dream in owl-feathered night,

though stars glimmer through, sifting–

and wait for lark-trilled light,

but always the clouds come, drifting.

 

The prompt for Day 5 of NaPoWriMo was way too busy and complicated for me, as it involved “twenty different projects” to include in one poem. Instead, I went to the Oracle again for a start, then wrote a pantoum for Jane Dougherty’s Pictures and Poetry challenge based on the lines from Francis Ledwidge’s “The Dead Kings” and the Turner painting above.