EIGHT CUPS SPILLING

EIGHT CUPS SPILLING
John Swain

From forest
of frogs
and cicadas
insisting
a sentience,
I laid down
on a tall
disc of stone
like a boat
left to travel
the wind of stars.
Cosmos moving
in heat lightning
over the cruel illusion
of stillness.
I saw eight cups
of river spilling
in a circle
of glimpses
before the silence
birthed a god
to be torn
like a woman
in the jaws
of the false.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.

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Posted on September 30, 2012, in John Swain, POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Another interesting poem from John Swain. His use of language and imagery suggest a connection to ancient ideas, the endurance of human thought.

    Read his poem FAITH FROM DISBELIEF by clicking the link:
    https://misfitsmiscellany.wordpress.com/2012/09/07/faith-from-disbelief/

  2. Allie Marini Batts

    Lovely. But then, he had me at “frogs and cicadas”.

  3. A Nietzschean poem with a rather fatherly Jungian counterpart toward the denatured illusionary evolutionary self.

  4. “like a boat left to travel the wind of stars” … Now that is a career change!

    I love “spilling in a circle of glimpses” … Eight cups is a pitcher of lemonade for a small party, an awkward, uncomfortable party if its silence was so great it birthed a god.

    I could chew on this for days: “to be torn like a woman in the jaws of the false.” What a dangerous place to be. We are always sifting truth, until we are not. And then we are certainly sitting in the jaws of the false—torn regarding whether to stay or go. Falsehood can be quite alluring.

    This is a sensational vision and an excellent poem.

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