Golden

[Rani Zemirah]

Golden

I stood inside a rainbow
A mist of flaming vapor
Kissed by sun and cloud
Descending all around me

Some say that cannot happen
One must be far away to see
But I know
At magic moments
Like noon
In the mist
In the mountains
Rainbows fall straight
To the ground

I stood there
In that sacred place
With fire falling all around
And for one shining moment
I was golden

© Wendy E.

[Blackbead]

Beautiful . . .

Makes me feel some of the same emotions that "Behind the Falls" by William Stafford does but in a warmer and more alive tone.

Again, a beautiful poem and I thank you for sharing it!

Blackbead

[Rani Zemirah]

Thank you, kind sir. This was a powerful piece for me because it actually happened, although I was unable to write about until many years later.

I have not had occasion to read Stafford before now, and I was unable to find "Behind the Falls" online (though I did read that it was not one of his more well received pieces... LOL), but I did stumble across something called "Looking For Gold" (odd coincidence) here:

http://www.williamstafford.org/spoems/index.html

that gives me an idea of the similarity you might have seen. Was it the unexpected (and often unintended) rhyme within the body of the lines instead of at the ends, without regard for meter? I find this sometimes creeps into my free verse without my realizing it until after it's already firmly established.

Thank you for reading, and even more for commenting!! We poets often crave that particular form of validation... and gain sustenance from it! LOL

May the muse be with you!

[mary]

 

[Blackbead]

Rani,

Here's that poem by Stafford:

Behind the Falls

First the falls, then the cave;
then sheets of sound around us fell
while earth fled inward, where we went.
We traced it back, cigarette lighter high –
lost the roof, then the wall,
found abruptly in that space
only the flame and ourselves,
and heard the curtain like the earth
go down, so still it made the lighter
dim that led us on under the hill.

We stopped, afraid --- lost
if ever that flame went out ---
and surfaced in each other's eyes,
two real people suddenly
more immediate in the dark
than in the sun we'd ever be.
When men and women meet that way
the curtain of the earth descends, and they
find out how faint the light has been, how far
mere honesty or justice is from all they need.

      William Stafford
         1970

If others didn't receive it well then it wasn't written for them; it was written for me.

By the way, the group of folks that produced Raising Black Flags are beginning to put together two more books, one of which is going to be a fantasy/scifi work of poetry, short stories, and artwork.  Would you be interested in putting "Golden" into the fantasy/scifi book?

[Rani Zemirah]

Well... sure, if they'll accept it! Where do I find the details?

And thank you for digging up that poem. I had to read it twice to appreciate it, but the second time I found I related to the scene quite effortlessly. Interesting read, not run of the mill. I like poetry/prose that shakes up the accepted notion of how things are or should be.

Thank you for including my work in this exciting endeavor!

Funny that a poem about a real occurrence should go into a book of sci-fi/fantasy work! Irony is sweet...