The Fisher Queen

Here you can post YOUR OWN poems, prose, music, or art inspired by the 'Muses nine'.

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The Fisher Queen

Postby Saturn » Sat Jul 28, 2007 9:50 pm

The Fisher Queen

I was a sure flatliner,
Paralysed by a stroke,
A shock to the heart
Left me brain dead,
And hope deprived:
Blood drained corpse.

Rigor mortis had begun,
The greying of the flesh,
The cold, hardness set,
All my functions ceased.
I was nothing but dead,
Buried alive, tomb dark.

You came and woke me
To cure me from my ill.
Nursed me to my self
Doctored me for my life,
Shook me from the coma
Medicined more each day.

An Octopus in a pot;
Wildly flailing nerves,
Ripped from elements,
Torn from my depths
My lonely asphyxiation:
I choked in such relief.

You're the Fisher Queen
Dropping a golden line.
On your beautiful hook;
Willing, I held so tight
Clutching to my hopes
As you reeled me in.
_____________
Last edited by Saturn on Mon Jun 16, 2008 8:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby dks » Thu Aug 16, 2007 4:52 pm

Oh I missed this one because I was gone. I love this! Your images are strange and beautiful:

An Octopus in a pot;
Wildly flailing nerves,
Ripped from elements,
Torn from my depths
My lonely asphixiation:
I choked in such relief.


I love the way you describe the physicality of death so richly:

Rigor mortis had begun,
The greying of the flesh,
The cold, hardness set,
All my functions ceased.
I was nothing but dead,
Buried alive, tomb dark.


Good show here good man! That title is priceless, as well--it fits the metaphor--oh I like this one indeed :!:
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Thu Aug 16, 2007 7:30 pm

dks wrote:Oh I missed this one because I was gone. I love this! Your images are strange and beautiful:

An Octopus in a pot;
Wildly flailing nerves,
Ripped from elements,
Torn from my depths
My lonely asphixiation:
I choked in such relief.




I find inspiration in the strangest places.

I was watching a travel programme where fishermen in Egypt were catching Octopus in a ceramic pot. It's an ancient method of fishing used since Phoenician times.

This was just so strange and wonderful an image that stuck in my head that I had to fit it into a poem somehow.

This whole poem was partly written so I could shoe-horn that image in :lol:
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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