Listening for the words in a quiet corner of the night. The fiction, poetry, and photography of Jason Evans.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Iceberg
Float a smile on the ice An Arctic melting sea Harpoon blade sharpened With bone and brittleness Ride the decks With wrist-twined rigging Lean and watch for me
The pack ice is beginning to loosen its icy grip, the captured sailing men who survived the winter will be released to the fair wind. Homeward, homeward to kith and kin to let smolder the adventurer within. Soon enough the bloody winter will once again begin. For this gentler season let us rest and wait; in due time the sails will need be set again.
There is something seasoned about these words. Icebergs are something that can sink you. You can smile on the outside of all that frozenness, and there are meltings, fabulous meltings, but there are those icebergs that pop up from time to time and I get in this poem here, to be prepared for their eventuality, having knowledge, and skill to navigate them is worth much.
This may be day 3 of the fever talking but I got to that last line, "Lean and watch for me" and just smiled. As in this is nature, we are fairly matched, and I am not afraid. And something to behold.
First, I love what you're doing with that camera. Gooood investment!
The images in this poem, the harpoon blade bone sharpened and the wrist-twined rigging, speak to me of whaling ships. I love the implied relationship between the speaker and the reader. We become participants in the adventure.
I am reminded of Robert Frost, when he implores us and invites us into his literary framework.
It is as if the "me" here is a leviathan of the cold seas, taunting the sailor of long ago - Or, perhaps the "me" is someone who waits patiently on land for the seafarer to return home.
Margaret, very sweet words. :) Global warming aside, I'm happy that poetry can melt the Arctic.
Meme, what a rush that image paints! Thank you for adding to the impact of the verses.
Aggie, thank you! That photo was one I captured last weekend.
Aniket, I'm really loving this new lens. There are tons of interesting pictures I haven't even begun to share. ;)
Walking Man, potent words. You conjure the flow of a story on the high seas. I feel the spray and restless wind.
Szelsofa, the wind on the ocean is such a potent thing. Almost like a presence that always walks beside you.
Catvibe, I have to admit that this poem was a curious one. It even took me quite a while to describe what it meant. But then again, I like how poems in that vein become owned by every person who delve into them. For me, you were right to focus on the threat of this environment. The mix of water and ice.
Sarah, a very particular kill. The question is, is it a kill of destruction, or a kill of claiming? The environment of the poem is ambiguous. It is frozen and dangerous, and it is moving and exhilarating.
Vesper, it's a very visceral meaning. I'm sure it will be different for every reader.
Jennifer, yes, it's a bold image. Strong and confident. Almost a dare. (I hope day 4 is treating you better!)
Karen, thank you!! I'm very happy with the things this lens can do. And yes, you are right, I wanted to get readers wet with this poem. To put the harpoon in their hands.
EOH, great to see you! I hope you've been well. Thank you for the feedback on rhythm. I liked its feel too.
Kate, I think you've come closest to the visceral impact of what this poem meant for me. Parts of me are moving out in that water. Parts of me are sailing on that boat.
17 comments:
Jason
I feel the chill of the iceberg touching my bones.
But somehow it doesn't feel cold, there's a warmth to it.
"Float a smile on the ice"
A smile can melt any iceberg, just like it'll melt a frozen heart.
"An Arctic melting sea"
Having visions of rushing water flowing like freshly ignited passion and love.
I agree, I feel no chill to these wintery words.
Lovely word picture and photo.
'Float a smile on the ice' now that's a starting line I could kill for!!! :) :)
Outstanding photography too! :)
The pack ice is beginning to loosen its icy grip, the captured sailing men who survived the winter will be released to the fair wind. Homeward, homeward to kith and kin to let smolder the adventurer within. Soon enough the bloody winter will once again begin. For this gentler season let us rest and wait; in due time the sails will need be set again.
It must be the wind singing.
Ooops, I've just seen that The Walking Man has felt the wind, too.
Word verification: 'ammazo' as in amazing.
There is something seasoned about these words. Icebergs are something that can sink you. You can smile on the outside of all that frozenness, and there are meltings, fabulous meltings, but there are those icebergs that pop up from time to time and I get in this poem here, to be prepared for their eventuality, having knowledge, and skill to navigate them is worth much.
Nice shot! Also showing something seasoned...
I'm seeing a ship sailing in dangerous waters, looking for a kill, if the tricky iceberg doesn't get it first.
Sail into warmer waters...it's nearly spring down here. ;)
I have to ponder this, Jason... to really know what it can tell me... I like each image it conjures, though, and the photo too!
This may be day 3 of the fever talking but I got to that last line, "Lean and watch for me" and just smiled. As in this is nature, we are fairly matched, and I am not afraid. And something to behold.
Beautiful images.
First, I love what you're doing with that camera. Gooood investment!
The images in this poem, the harpoon blade bone sharpened and the wrist-twined rigging, speak to me of whaling ships. I love the implied relationship between the speaker and the reader. We become participants in the adventure.
There is some wonderful rhythm here. I feel it around my skull, pulsing in the veins under my skin.
I am reminded of Robert Frost, when he implores us and invites us into his literary framework.
It is as if the "me" here is a leviathan of the cold seas, taunting the sailor of long ago - Or, perhaps the "me" is someone who waits patiently on land for the seafarer to return home.
Photo is gallery-worthy.
Margaret, very sweet words. :) Global warming aside, I'm happy that poetry can melt the Arctic.
Meme, what a rush that image paints! Thank you for adding to the impact of the verses.
Aggie, thank you! That photo was one I captured last weekend.
Aniket, I'm really loving this new lens. There are tons of interesting pictures I haven't even begun to share. ;)
Walking Man, potent words. You conjure the flow of a story on the high seas. I feel the spray and restless wind.
Szelsofa, the wind on the ocean is such a potent thing. Almost like a presence that always walks beside you.
Catvibe, I have to admit that this poem was a curious one. It even took me quite a while to describe what it meant. But then again, I like how poems in that vein become owned by every person who delve into them. For me, you were right to focus on the threat of this environment. The mix of water and ice.
Sarah, a very particular kill. The question is, is it a kill of destruction, or a kill of claiming? The environment of the poem is ambiguous. It is frozen and dangerous, and it is moving and exhilarating.
Vesper, it's a very visceral meaning. I'm sure it will be different for every reader.
Jennifer, yes, it's a bold image. Strong and confident. Almost a dare. (I hope day 4 is treating you better!)
Karen, thank you!! I'm very happy with the things this lens can do. And yes, you are right, I wanted to get readers wet with this poem. To put the harpoon in their hands.
EOH, great to see you! I hope you've been well. Thank you for the feedback on rhythm. I liked its feel too.
Kate, I think you've come closest to the visceral impact of what this poem meant for me. Parts of me are moving out in that water. Parts of me are sailing on that boat.
Oh, I like this one, very much. Wonderful work Jason and a perfect photo to accompany. Bravo!
Thanks, Geraldine! I hope that's the last of the snow.
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