Big Medicine (edit)

[antman]

Tribal voices rise from
sacred ground,
chanted litanies resound.
Towers and spires
cleave an arid sky.

Drums and flute pierce
gourds rattle,
snake and locust
disappear.

A shaman bound to dream
fasts and sweats,
nearby dry arroyos sigh
purified by the
searing sun.

Aware where spirits dwell
antelope and jackrabbit
dash and dart,
as lightning flash warns:
Thunderbird’s on the
horizon.

[Marion Poirier]

Dear Anthony.

I don't know if this will be of any help;
there are a couple of places where I'd trim
giving the poem more room to breathe.
Colorful images evoking many of the senses.
I don't think you need quite as many modifiers.
Here's a couple of suggestions to think about:

Warm regards,
Marion

Tribal voices rise from
sacred ground, whose
chanted litanies resound.
Towers and spires
cleave an arid vaulted sky.

Drums and flute pierce;
scorched prickly
as gourds rattle
while snake and locust
disappear.

A shaman bound to dream
fasts and sweats; semi-C
nearby dry arroyos sigh, comma
purified by the highest
searing sun.

Aware where spirits dwell, comma
antelope and jackrabbit
dash and dart
as lightning flash warns:
Thunderbird’s on the
horizon.

[antman]

Thanks Marion,
I like your suggestions and will use them
for this narritive.

peace and love,
anthony

[ramadevi]

I can really feel the pulse of the desert and the native Medicine flow through these lines, Antman!

Excellent revisions.

"cleave an arid sky"---nice phrase!
This sounds great read aloud.

Well done.

[Jonathan Morey Weiss-Namaste47]

Heap big medicine. Nice excursion into the land of our ancestors. Especially liked the poetry in S3.....assonance and alliteration dancing hand in hand around the campfire.................singing sacred psalms.

[mfwilkie]

Ant,

I know the Narrative can be short or long, and while I like this, but I'd like more to see.

Here's one of my favorites by Billy Collins

Maggie



On Turning Ten


The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

Billy Collins

[antman]

Thanks Maggie for the Billy Collins he really summed
up this poem well and the flow and imagery were
smooth. Wish I could write like that.

anthony