An afternoon storm came
rumbling, bumbling,
stumbling through.
Lightning flashed, thunder grumbled.
Wilder than wild, the winds – how they blew.
Torrential rains
washed birdsong
down from the trees,
scattered loose leaves –
pelted the drone from the cicada,
the buzz from the bees.
Crows huddled in the chestnut,
Wing to wing, eye to eye,
Beak to beak.
Ants and earwigs, fireflies –
crickets and beetles –
higher ground all did seek.
On and on, well into night
the storm lashed and thrashed
and punished the earth.
Nature slammed and hammered
her way down the hills, through my yard,
for all she was worth.
When morning came, the rip-roaring
storm no longer shrieked – finally spent,
it had moved along.
Once again this battered
little patch of earth, my home,
was, gloriously, painted in birdsong.
rumbling, bumbling,
stumbling through.
Lightning flashed, thunder grumbled.
Wilder than wild, the winds – how they blew.
Torrential rains
washed birdsong
down from the trees,
scattered loose leaves –
pelted the drone from the cicada,
the buzz from the bees.
Crows huddled in the chestnut,
Wing to wing, eye to eye,
Beak to beak.
Ants and earwigs, fireflies –
crickets and beetles –
higher ground all did seek.
On and on, well into night
the storm lashed and thrashed
and punished the earth.
Nature slammed and hammered
her way down the hills, through my yard,
for all she was worth.
When morning came, the rip-roaring
storm no longer shrieked – finally spent,
it had moved along.
Once again this battered
little patch of earth, my home,
was, gloriously, painted in birdsong.
(c)2009 Text and digital painting, Martha McLemore
14 comments:
birds are so resilient.... not only songs but hope after the storms.
Harlequn:
Listening to the birds re-mark their territories with song in the wake of a storm is one of my most cherished delights.
I need to learn to do that myself.
:)
"Washed birdsong"
"Punished the earth"
Examples of verse's superiority over prose. Did you find including rhymes helped? I find it does. Keeps me directed. Stops me from getting (to quote one of my mother's phrases which I remembered too late for my recent post) too "slack set-up."
Tell me some time how you did the pic (technically). All you need now is some music and you'll have embraced the three great arts. Bloody well done, Crow.
I swear, as I read this and post this comment, it's just around 7a.m., and the crows are sounding off. Is it you?
This is a very good piece of work.
Peace
Thank you, BB, for the compliment.
I still have difficulty with rhythm and structure in writing poems, but I think that might get better as I continue trying. (Hope so, anyway.) What I was attempting here, with the repetition of sound-alikes in the middle of the verses, was the rocking and rolling sounds of a sudden and somewhat violent thunderstorm. To tell you the truth, I was hearing Elton John's song, "Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues," in my head while I was composing the poem. However, the rhythm of his music did not translate into the poem as I had thought when I was writing.
And, yes, it does help me to use rhyme. I think it might also help if I let my poems sit on the shelf for a few days, then approach them with an editor's eye...and scalpel.
I used a free photo editing/graphic art program called Paint.net which I downloaded some months ago to create the digital painting. Go to http://www.getpaint.net/ to download the program. I'll email you the details of which tools I used, if you like...or I could do a blog post.
I loved the list of your mother's words. I'm sure you remember some of the dutchisms from your time here in Pennsylvania, like 'all' for finished or empty, as in 'The jelly is all,' and 'red,' as in 'I'm going to red the closet,' meaning clean. In New Orleans, we always said we were going to 'make groceries,' when we meant we were going grocery shopping. Colloquialisms make language interesting and joyful.
I'll keep trying to get better with the poetry.
:)
Good morning, Joe/Spadoman:
Well, if one of them was singing off-key, then, yeah, that was my crow-spirit, saying 'hello' to you.
I'll stop by your place after my morning errands to catch up on news of your recent sojourn.
Peace and love, Friend.
:)
The rhyme and rhythm work so well together that you hear the storm through the words and feel it clear afterwards. Another poet who doesn't admit to the title! I kept hearing the Pastoral Symphony as I read it.
Dear Joe/Plutarch:
Thank you for the kind words. I can admit to being a poet-apprentice, with no hesitation. I have far to go before I would feel justified in calling myself a poet.
I found the Berlin Philharmonc-Karajan rendition of Beethoven's Sixth on YouTube so I would understand your reference - a beautiful piece, in several movements. Found four of the movements, are there more? (It is sad to note that I have to find such things on the Internet, having led a culturally deprived life thus far, but I am glad YouTube is there.)
:)
The reason I asked how you did the pic had nothing to do with my venturing into the world of graphic arts - long ago I proved to myself that with me it's words or nothing. However I'm interested in how you achieved the control you did. The mouse seems such an indirect, lunge-y sort of beast for this sort of work.
Don't apologise for discovering the Pastoral on the Internet. The great thing is to have discovered it at all. This symphony tends to be sneered at by those who should know better because, they say, it's "programmatic" (ie, depicting cuckoos, etc). But the melodies are lovely and the upbeat music after the storm is just that - upbeat. Eventually find a reason for trying the Eighth ("my little one," Beethoven said; it was his favourite.) You certainly chose one of the great Beethoven interpreters in Boastful Bert.
BB:
The picture was, indeed, made using the mouse to control the different tools. For the painting, I used straight-edged lines and round-edged brushes, all of varying widths. The straight lines can be manipulated into curves (hills and valleys in the 'land'). By varying the size and direction of the brushes, I 'painted' clouds and shrubbery.
Your (and Plutarch's) recommendations are reason enough to search YouTube for Beethoven's works. I enjoyed the movie, "Copying Beethoven," a few weeks ago, more for the music than the story.
:)
I'm just in joy reading your words. Torrential rains so strong they washed the birdsong from the trees???? Wow. I so wish I could have been there.
Love from a crow
We would delight in receiving that soaking storm rain you eloquently describe as our reservoirs and land remain parched -as all records have been broken.
But that doesn’t stop me from enjoying your very evocative poem that swept me along in its power and inviting rhythm - wonderful descriptive works. !
Best wishes
Hello, Terry/tsduff:
The storm was wild and beautiful, though my grandson was frightened of it. I used to be afraid, too, so I tried to allay some of his fears by teaching him what little weather lore I know. I think learning something new help ease his anxiety a bit.
Very nice to see you here.
:)
Hello, Lindsay:
I know what you mean about needing the rain. Our reservoirs are low, too, but not quite parched, yet. This storm unleashed about 6 weeks worth of water in one 24-hour period. It ushered in a cool spell that everyone is joyful about; down in the low 70s(F), which means windows and doors open, no air conditioners or fans necessary.
Hope you folks get lots of rain soon, in steady, manageable doses.
:)
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