When you die, you wake...
This poem is currently under consideration and submitted to Rough Diamond Poetry Journal.
So, being a glass half full kind of guy, I wanted to try and write something a little different, something outside of my comfort zone that challenges me as a writer. I decided to write a poem in a form which I have historically found very difficult, the Ghazal.
The Ghazal is an ancient form of poetry which originates in the Arabic world. Its most well known proponent is the Persian poet and Sufi master Rumi who was born in 1207. Rumi's Ghazal, and his poetry in general are amazing. I don't really feel qualified to speak on them in an analytical context as I can only read English translations and the poems effectiveness can be dependent on the person who translated it. I will say that Rumi encapsulates the mysticism of both divine and human love perfectly. If you want to read more of their work you can find it here.
The Ghazal as a form is expressed by in-line rhymes and a repeated refrain at the end of each two (couplet) or three (tercet) line stanza. I decided to use a three line stanza, otherwise known as a tercet. I feel like this gives the poet more space to breath and as I've deviated a little from form this was essential. Ghazal are traditionally made up of a sequence of independent stanza, that can all sit on there own as mini poems. As I had to tell a story and build a narrative this was difficult. I feel like I may have achieved independence for most of the tercets but one or two run on from each other to build a story within the structure of the poem. I did stick rigidly to the form in regards to the third line refrain which should be between one and three words that repeat, in this case branches of heaven.
I have included a Soundcloud recording of this poem in this post to give the impression of how I hear it in my mind and highlight the rhythm that the poem should follow. Poetry is historically an oral tradition and is often more effective when performed by the writer. The emotions and spirit of the poem seeps from the poets pores, which bleeds from their voice. I especially wanted to perform this poem given that Norse mythology lies at its heart and to honor the Skald's (Norse poets) oral tradition.
The Space Between Worlds
to feral sky choked with beaded jewels
ablaze in the branches of heaven.
Wind blowing, a maelstrom of lingering life,
roiling in upwelling, Urðarbrunnr’s water
feeding the branches of heaven.
This tree full grown from a prescient dream,
shriven in long suffering. A world of wandering,
wakeful moments in the branches of heaven.
I flail, in hale memories of day and night;
birth, life, taking a wife, death, killing.
Leaves tremor the branches of heaven.
Mist on sails, crystal drops stained with Madder,
clad in leather, singing slaughter, wet stone to axe.
Thor thundering among the branches of heaven.
Beasts slavering at the roots of the world, Yggdrasil
flailing steel whips of wave and gale on ships hulls.
Rán casting gull-net high to the branches of heaven.
Scaled in armour I was caught, sinking in abyssal,
gasping death, bereft, my shuttered eyes opened,
blazing a new hearth in the branches of heaven.
Now, no breathe. Bleeding earth and the silver tree,
a harp thrumming scars across the patient sky;
Bragi chanting from the branches of heaven.
Weeping stars, healing scars in that forgetful song.
Odin watches, beard of clouds shroud mornings herald,
melody rustles blood leaves, in the branches of heaven.
Valkyries chorus, capillaries throb in wilting waves,
Squeezing like worms struggling in calico earth.
The molten light spills through the branches of heaven.
Blazing white alights, scared red threads glisten,
I’m rent squalling, Huginn and Muninn squawking
from Yggdrasil’s tumult in the branches of heaven.
Fading bliss of feral sky choked with beaded jewels,
Bragi’s chant stutters, stops as blood and clots of flesh
enmesh the opening to those branches of heaven.
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Animation By @zord189
