Where do we go from here?

Tuesday, April 06, 2010

Vuelo De Las Brujas, by Franciso de Goya Y Lucientes PAD #6

Although I wasn't going to post any more of these on this actual blog, I can't help but share this one here.  The prompt at first made me say "OK, this is the day I give up."  Here it is:
"For this prompt, write an ekphrastic poem. According to John Drury's The Poetry Dictionary, ekphrastic poetry is "Poetry that imitates, describes, critiques, dramatizes, reflects upon, or otherwise responds to a work of nonliterary art, especially the visual." So, I've provided links to two pieces of art, and I want you to pick one (or both) to write an ekphrastic poem. (It would be helpful for you to mention which art you picked.)"
  1. Pocahontas, by Annie Leibovitz
  2. Flight of the Witches, by Francisco de Goya     
Could any two pictures be more different?  Egad.  But clearly, Goya is the one to write about, if writing there will be. Once I started it became surprisingly easy. Even fun.

The Witches Entertainment

There is no moon tonight
and cloudcast hides the stars.
Put on your hats, my beauties,
soon we ride
across the  darkling Spanish plain,                     
seeking louts who wander
from the taverns in the town
wanting only
the warmth of their own beds,
fire on the hearth,
a sodden night of sleep
too drunk for dreams.

We shall remake them
fly them,
dumb creatures of the earth,
to ecstasy and terror in our arms.
By hidden light of dark day stars
cross tossing stormy seas
to visit cannibals
eaters of human hearts.
Then drop them
bloody, riven, gnawed
through forest leaves.

They will hear music
played by monsters
around a ring of fire
deep within the midnight trees
dance with us
strange sisters,
then sleep
abandoning despair.
From unreasoning sleep awakening
 they will not remember.
Will not care


Cynthia said...

I do love this.

Maryam said...

You've called up the spell, the ride, so exquisitely....You make all of us readers witches and sodden clay humans. It all makes perfect, terrible sense --that they/we don't remember or even care.