(treat) H2O - for pippin
Monday, 4 July 2011 10:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ex_pippin880 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
junetideTitle: H2O
Gift for:pippin
By:untonuggan
Gift type: poetry
Genre: poetry
Rating: safe
Warnings: fairly safe, unless you are offended by Norse creation myths
Summary: Doesn't really work for poetry, but this poem explores water, creation, birth, poetry, etc.
Giftcreator's notes: For a Junetide treat, “I am the rain.”
The first ice,
licked by the she-cow Audumla,
formed a dripping birth for the first Norseman;
today I slip and crunch, crunch and slip
across the frost-hewn leaves;
they call it Little Devil's Stairs
where the waterfall that travels in treacherous torrents
is suspended in ice-time;
I never reached the Stairs, the sky slipping into winter's dark;
I never tried again;
Summer thunderstorms threaten
towering cumulonimbus clouds
pierced by our prayers for an end to this drought;
parched grass prickles beneath my feet
as it turns to dust at my touch;
my tumbler of water sweats condensation,
so thirsty I unabashedly lick it from the cool glass;
I am Audumla, it seems, for my tongue's touch
summons lightning, the sky's veins pulsing;
what is a mere cup of water compared to this cacophony,
an ocean rumbling and tappa-tap-tapping on the roof?
barefoot and giggling I flow out of the confines of the house,
embraced by the storm that washes my sweaty longing away;
the grass and I soak in sustenance sweeter than a double rainbow;
for a moment I am six again, puddle-jumping and puddle-wonderful;
for an instant, I am the rain, giving life to words.
Gift for:
pippinBy:
untonugganGift type: poetry
Genre: poetry
Rating: safe
Warnings: fairly safe, unless you are offended by Norse creation myths
Summary: Doesn't really work for poetry, but this poem explores water, creation, birth, poetry, etc.
Giftcreator's notes: For a Junetide treat, “I am the rain.”
The first ice,
licked by the she-cow Audumla,
formed a dripping birth for the first Norseman;
today I slip and crunch, crunch and slip
across the frost-hewn leaves;
they call it Little Devil's Stairs
where the waterfall that travels in treacherous torrents
is suspended in ice-time;
I never reached the Stairs, the sky slipping into winter's dark;
I never tried again;
Summer thunderstorms threaten
towering cumulonimbus clouds
pierced by our prayers for an end to this drought;
parched grass prickles beneath my feet
as it turns to dust at my touch;
my tumbler of water sweats condensation,
so thirsty I unabashedly lick it from the cool glass;
I am Audumla, it seems, for my tongue's touch
summons lightning, the sky's veins pulsing;
what is a mere cup of water compared to this cacophony,
an ocean rumbling and tappa-tap-tapping on the roof?
barefoot and giggling I flow out of the confines of the house,
embraced by the storm that washes my sweaty longing away;
the grass and I soak in sustenance sweeter than a double rainbow;
for a moment I am six again, puddle-jumping and puddle-wonderful;
for an instant, I am the rain, giving life to words.
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 08:00 am (UTC)a mere cup of water compared to this cacophony
the sounds in this line are especially gorgeous.
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 09:33 pm (UTC)