Black Satin - The Necessary Void
In the night there was
a black satin veil rippling
in the wind by the sea,
it played a pipe of
Pan, and the sound
was like a lover's caress,
so soft and low
it made
the stars shudder
and the moon beam.
Into this Music
black Saturn was
bound to drift,
his boat beached,
shaking seaweed
out of his shiny
blue-black hair.
Silky mussel shells
clung to his red military
coat in tatters
from the long voyage
through the narrow,
jagged caves
where light had
trouble reaching its
bright fingers.
The tune was
like "n-o-o-n",
an "Oooh, you are here,
you are on the
sand, come from my
Sister, ooooh, and she
has blackened you
and softened you,
as if your
coat has been
smashed by velvet."
"Ooooh,"
moaned Saturn,
sinking groaning
onto the sand,
as the red of the coat
sank like blood into
the sand, but it was
black and old,
no longer anything
that made a sound.
"Oooooh,"
moaned Saturn,
"It's Noon".
"Woo, woo; ooh, ooh,"
said the pipe, the black
satin veil feathering,
rippling down,
flaring like a
cape, hovering like
a raven, blue-black,
covering Saturn.
Saturn made
no noise, no moan,
no creak, no rifle
crack,
no wise crack.
He was slackened
by something
that had to be -
softened,
quick, quickened.
The Music
borrowed a paintbox
and reached for colours
in the stars,
tumbling like fountains
of spectrum,
pouring Saturn into
satin, and he did
not resist,
for the colours
were his own,
indeed his very flesh.
"Oh," he said,
stirring, "Oh, I see."
copyright Monika Roleff 2005
a black satin veil rippling
in the wind by the sea,
it played a pipe of
Pan, and the sound
was like a lover's caress,
so soft and low
it made
the stars shudder
and the moon beam.
Into this Music
black Saturn was
bound to drift,
his boat beached,
shaking seaweed
out of his shiny
blue-black hair.
Silky mussel shells
clung to his red military
coat in tatters
from the long voyage
through the narrow,
jagged caves
where light had
trouble reaching its
bright fingers.
The tune was
like "n-o-o-n",
an "Oooh, you are here,
you are on the
sand, come from my
Sister, ooooh, and she
has blackened you
and softened you,
as if your
coat has been
smashed by velvet."
"Ooooh,"
moaned Saturn,
sinking groaning
onto the sand,
as the red of the coat
sank like blood into
the sand, but it was
black and old,
no longer anything
that made a sound.
"Oooooh,"
moaned Saturn,
"It's Noon".
"Woo, woo; ooh, ooh,"
said the pipe, the black
satin veil feathering,
rippling down,
flaring like a
cape, hovering like
a raven, blue-black,
covering Saturn.
Saturn made
no noise, no moan,
no creak, no rifle
crack,
no wise crack.
He was slackened
by something
that had to be -
softened,
quick, quickened.
The Music
borrowed a paintbox
and reached for colours
in the stars,
tumbling like fountains
of spectrum,
pouring Saturn into
satin, and he did
not resist,
for the colours
were his own,
indeed his very flesh.
"Oh," he said,
stirring, "Oh, I see."
copyright Monika Roleff 2005
posted by Imogen Crest @ 12:18 AM
2 comments
The 
2 Comments:
Thank you Faucon - you made me remember - I actually did for a little while in primary school. Astonishing - I had completely forgotten....why is your screen too small? Will you write a poem about Eversong if you haven't already????
I understand you. Having the different modes is compatible for you and Em I guess. Part of the whole indeed. Editing is a bit of a puzzle - I find I can only go within the constraints of the blogger and do only what I can, which has been okay. Perhaps Heather may be of help here, she is a whizz - she would have many ideas. I see you want to add nuances to your words. But can I say your words already sing off the page...but there is no harm in further enhancements. Also there is healing within the words, as I noticed. Yeah, the music - play on. There is eversong in all of your works. (Have you been a musician in the past?)
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