Hawk Shadow/Heroines [edit]

[Sparkydashforth]

Like this quirky poem dukealin.

Hawk Shadow/Heroines


Late Sunday morning biking west...............I would cut "late" and "west".
I noticed that my shadow had grown wings
not massive pinions, smaller ones
like a parrot’s on my pirate shoulder
or (they moved around)
winged helmet of a Valkyrie ~..............love the surreal take.

    Male Valkyries -
    what slain would they choose,
    which women, dead, raise up
    in strong, impassioned but unforcing arms?
    Perhaps those heroines who die
    in single combat pitting mother and her child
    against the closing circle,
    to bear and to be born?........................I think this central section goes on too long.
I would end the stanza here.

    Their man-formed Valkyrie would lift them up
    not to eternal roistering
    but tea and calm conversations
    with others who had died in childbirth
    and sweet spirits of their stillborn bairns
    meeting, too, those born alive
    they never lived to greet......................would delete these lines for form and pace sake.

~ the shadow bird kept pace.
I never turned to look:
he’d have been hidden in the sun
as my lazily pursuing hawk
meant it to be.       .......Good work!

Late Sunday morning biking west
I noticed that my shadow had grown wings
not massive pinions, smaller ones
like a parrot’s on my pirate shoulder
or (they moved around)
winged helmet of a Wagner Valkyrie ~

    Male Valkyries -
    what slain would they choose,
    which women, dead, raise up
    in strong, impassioned but unforcing arms?
    Perhaps those heroines who die
    in single combat pitting mother and her child
    against the closing circle,
    to bear and to be born?
    Their man-formed Valkyrie would lift them up
    not to eternal roistering
    but tea and calm conversations
    with others who had died in childbirth
    and sweet spirits of their stillborn bairns
    meeting, too, those born alive
    they never lived to greet.

~ the shadow bird kept pace.
I never turned to look:
he’d have been hidden in the sun
as my lazily pursuing hawk
meant it to be.

You get strange visions from a little oxygen debt.