In the Belly of The Beast

I rode in a combine today, XD

Slowly treading an ocean of

Flaxen haired maidens in prayer.

Golden ribbons fly wildly

With

Their chests arched towards the sun.

 

A lowly obsidian one

    with wisdom under wraps

Perches atop the last worshipper

    to fall.

Reviews

[Lucia Morgan]

i am so unbelievably jelouse. every line is a story. this poem is so mystifying its likes seeing a spark of magic that one cannot touch, but merely appreciate its apperance in your life. i think its a beautiful brilliant piece, that speaks to the minds eye. your very talented

[bob, small b. aka invs]

living in a rural area and watching the combines 'slowly treading the ocean' of corn, watching the gloden ribbons of leaves fly in the air across our roads, i think i relate to this poem very well. and the obsidian ones usually flock to those newly harvested fields. perhaps you saw the advance scout. i'm not certain of my interpretation of your words, but they fit so very well. it certainly is a new way of seeing and expressing something that we see without thinking about. a matter of routine made extraordinary. nicely done.

[Naomi Montana Walsh]

I like the golden ribbons.. I am relating it to thier hair not sure you are , but for me , I think of the golden hair as ribbons, the crest of a wave .. many great images

[Salvatore Buttaci]

Mysterious...

[Mark]

Wheatfield: "An ocean of flaxen-haired maidens" (seeds still intact?)
And HOW exactly does the "obsidian One" exult? By adding herself to the inexorable juggernaut mowing down the "maidens"?
Hmmm...Deceptively much to think about here! And what poet can ask more than that she has made her reader think, eh?

[Ed Hart]

this is plain old fashioned good poetry!...a scene told from the inside, obliquely, and with an ending that touches the universal...very well done...Ed

[Thomas B. Buckman]

How interesting! =]