Sunday, 21 June 2015

Mark Scrivener Poetry Blog No. 48 Late Afternoon Stream



LATE AFTERNOON STREAM



In Australia most streams smaller than a river are called a creek. This poem is about a

creek in the late afternoon with imagery mixed in with a little philosophy. The metre is dactylic that is stressed, unstressed, unstressed (x / / Lightly, late sunlight is glittering bright) with a stressed or stressed, unstressed syllables at the end for the rhymes. This metre (waltz rhythm) has something of a flowing quality but is rather tricky to create in English which tends towards the iambic metre (unstressed, stressed, / x). The Eastern Water Dragon ( Intellagama lesueurii lesueurii ) is a fairly large (up to slightly more than a metre) but shy lizard with strong legs and claws that hangs around water and dives into it to escape if disturbed.




LATE AFTERNOON STREAM



Lightly, late sunlight is glittering bright,

Goldening glistenings on the small stream;

Lightly as light, even lighter than light


Breeze that is brushing the ripples that gleam.



From the light sky, from high clouds that bright sun

Called into being, the free raindrops flow-

Seeping from hillsides they finally come

Down to the path of the valley below;



Down to one path that is always the low;

Following gravity's down-given course,

Yielding to overcome; letting them flow

Onward and onward, without using force.



Silky oak leaf-cluster patterns are bold,

Lit by the lowering shafts of day's beams;

Slow-rustling gum trees shimmer white gold,

Gleaming with sun on their foresting greens.



What is a stream but the flowing- the growing

Form of the flowing forever ongoing,

Leaving its legacy shaping the ground,

Like a slow, snaking shape oceanward-bound?



What is its shimmering beauty but glowing?

Mirroring heaven-set heart of the light?

Water takes coursing without any forcing,

Gathering shining in passing my sight.



Small water dragon swift-slides with a slither

Into the water's concealing, safe flowing;

While a black wood duck slow-glides with a shimmer,

Rippled in vee shapes that follow her going.



Standing in silence now, in the late light,

Watching in silence the green and gold sight,

Dappling of shadow and shine on the scene,

Gurgle and trilling and gush of the stream,



I am hearing its music; soft sounds' imbrication;

I am seeing its intricate dancing of light:

Sight of a moving through stillness and quiet,

Sound of a flowing through silent creation.

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