[stylist] Poem - "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" - Finalish Draft

[William L Houts]

Hello Shawn,

Many thanks, truly.  I guess my stuff can be a bit of an acquired taste, 
and I'm glad you've acquired it.  I shall do my best to keep it up.  
Best summer wishes to you, sir.


--Bill




On 7/8/2015 10:50 AM, Jacobson, Shawn D via stylist wrote:
> Bill
>
> Quite vivid imagery (stark ferocious angels) as always.  I am starting to get into your poems more as I read them.
>
> Keep it up.
>
> Shawn
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L Houts via stylist
> Sent: Wednesday, July 08, 2015 1:07 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List; kempiro at yahoo.com
> Cc: William L Houts
> Subject: [stylist] Poem - "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" - Finalish Draft
>
>
>
>
> Hello Friends,
>
> Here's an almost complete revision of a poem I posted here maybe eight or nine months ago.  I received a number of comments, almost all of them useful and to the point, then set it aside.  Sometimes I do that, just let things age for a while so I'm not quite as ego-driven about the damned thing.  A good thing, too, because when I looked at this one today, I was kind of appalled at how clunky it was, and set out to break its crooked bones so I could reset them again with, it is hoped, more patience and expertise.  Anyway, here it is; comments welcome as always.
>
>
> --Bill
>
>
> ---
>
> *Close Encounters of the Third Kind *
>
> /"Encounters"/crucible heart:
>
> Not that truth incarnate ark,
>
> singing, bringing our captured crewmen
>
> to earth again, forty years after abduction,
>
> but coming home wise if staggered
>
> white with untellable answers.
>
> No: it's that terrible, gorgeous scene
>
> in the embattled countryside home
>
> where the starfolk lay their light-siege,
>
> sending scorching demands through the vents:
>
> O remember that five note song,
>
> that call from the small black-eyed
>
> seraphs, so trumpet bright and fierce,
>
> setting mother and child at odds,
>
> his toys themselves climbing to life, crying
>
> come,O come, you brother, you son
>
> while mother must not, must not lose her Barry
>
> to stark ferocious angels,
>
> who brook no mere mother's rage, their sage enchantment
>
> voiced five tone bright, their scorching light
>
> surging through cracks as Barry
>
> is birthed through the dog door, earth to mystery air,
>
> loosed from house and awakened toys
>
> to sky home, a child's top flying,
>
> while thwarted mother shrieks below,
>
> until they land at the tower,
>
> release a boy joyous for secrets,
>
> for mother, for deep aching earth.
>
> Years later he'll tell of singing blue spheres,
>
> of star folk free as light,
>
> and of rooms where time itself dozed,
>
> benign as an uncle.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>


-- 


"Oh, Sophie!  Whyfore have you eated all de cheeldren?"