Water conducts them – fast-flowing,
coiling round about, but always in the
same direction, smoothing their edges
like soft-bodied stones.
Wading to midstream, himself
offered from the waist down,
he feels their oneness.
He engages the flex-and-cast,
flex-cast-and-reel ritual of courtship:
soft summons of love whose fleshy
whistle can be distinctly heard
above the river’s throaty gush.
She knows he meditates the sleek S-bend
of her spine, longs to coat his hands with
the silver residue of her muscley flank;
intuits him visualising her marble stare,
that flicker and twist of iris as he strokes
with the back of one tender finger
the fan of her petalled gills.
He understands she will be lured
against the flow of better judgment
towards the pillars of his anchored thighs,
unable to resist swimming in-and-out;
in-out-and-against those hallowed stones,
beneath his arch that is to her a cromlech,
a doorway between this world and the next.
Her access to a new, wet air that
kisses her with life the moment he
takes her by the lips and lifts her free.
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Reviews of "Channelled Flow"
Reviewed by Toby Russell (Reader)
Reviewed on October 14, 2007
Hi Kate,
somehow, after clicking around tonight I just found Author's Den, read some of your work and wanted to comment, so I joined and here I am.
What I wanted to ask you about was the degree to which the fish of your poem is attributed with human abilities, that is, how much am I to read this as a sexual poem, as compared to, say, a nature poem?
The fish (to my mind for some reason a masculine animal) seems to have a death wish, which makes me think of that aspect of female sexuality that seeks to give itself up in abandon (and danger?) to the masculine. So, and for other reasons, this seems to me a poem about seduction, but quite who is the predator it is hard to tell. There is something very anonymous and passive and even statuesque ("towards the pillars of his anchored thighs") about the poem's male figure, yet he is, at least literally speaking, the hunter, although a hunter who "feels their oneness".
I'm writing as I think. This may well be incoherent -- I am very tired. But, to push on to "her marble stare"... Such a deathly image, reminds me of Medusa, I wonder though if it should. Medusa most certainly did not want to be raped, and the fish in your poem most certainly does want to be caught. And for me this perhaps unintended association of mine brings me to what I see as the poem's problem. The fish is in its element in water, but is kissed to life when lifted free from its natural habitat. This I do not understand. I understand seduction and abandon as one possible doorway to liberation, but a fish being hooked through lip and gullet and yanked from its world seems to me too abrupt and hopeless a change, and death too fierce a liberation to be beneficial.
Perhaps in my immediate, rambling response I have missed the meaning, but hey, nobody's perfect.
However, I love the following:
"that flicker and twist of iris"
"the fan of her petalled gills"
"takes her by the lips and lifts her free"
This is tops - the sounds, v3 especially - your use of language is wonderful Kate - 'cromlech', 'his anchored thighs' - 'a doorway..' has me picture an old stone bridge, a fly fishing sparkly scene, and so a background for the enchantment of the poem - it's a beautiful poem, tugging sensuous trip, courtship fishing, the lure, the release into a new world of air, blimey Kate - i don't think i'll read better than this on angling ;) Superb poetry! One of your very best i reckon xx
This is a beautiful coupling showcasing the dance of love in the image of a fishermen and his love. I imagine this prize could be framed on a Sportsmen’s mantelpiece.
This is Burnside's Portfolio of Excellence! The voyeur in me shapeshifts into a bird of acquatic cobalt color and watches from a tree cavity excavated by the woodpeckers...I see PLENTY in Channelled Flow...this is highly marketable for a limited edition poster...a precise word portrait with such a touch of softness, Kate...what a trophy opportunity to reel the quill!
Talk about many bests...you have outdone yourself with this one Kate. In my humble opinion it is about as perfect as it gets! Bravo!Will read this one until the print wears out.;-)
I hereby nominate this one to appear in the Poetry Hall of Fame.
My Seconds are listed below, so we should hear a unanimous Yes!
We continue to be treated to the erudite work of an English Master.
- Bill
This is amazing..........
Every fisherman in the world will have his chest puffed out after reading this one..........You've made the sport epic........
unbelievable........I love this........
wow
a keeper!!!
I am delighted!
totally original!!!!!!!!!!!!!
pax a
Your "Channelled Flow" is within the heart, a true reaction when becoming one with nature, then against nature, when caught in the struggle to survive. . .even the fish out of water enjoys its moment of change, as the air kisses her with life. If we search deep enough, many of our own struggles against nature, when looking back sometimes have been the most rewarding times of our lives...
Your poem stirs my imagination...and I LOVE to go fishing!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on September 5, 2007
Haha!!! Gotta love it!!! . . . No smelly fish story this, M'Lady. You have given the hunted and hunter a whole 'nother dimension; taken the perfectly nice and serene scene of fly fishing into the lusciousness of amor . . . Which, if one stops and thinks about it, it really is . . . Exciting new poetry . . .
Your streaming mind is of beauty & wonderment - - Lastly I will add - One scenario leads you to the emphatic desire to wash your hands - The other can wait -love* <{}>* Ted
No fish tale here: just wonderful, wonderful poetry! I felt each move, the relationship betwixt fisherman and fish. Sigh. Made me wish I was the fish! LOL Well done!
Dear sweet Kate, I willnever go fishing again without being semi aroused as I think about the beauty and sensuality you poured into the river, the fish and the fisherman in this poem. The funny part is you are so right...it is a communion or joining with nature that is so comparable to sex that it makes me wonder why I have never noticed before. Very well written and such beautiful imagery that I felt the cold rush between my own legs. Love it.
hugs
Fee
From First Love to its destructive end and on to new beginnings, Mary Angela Nangini's poems explore the birth and death of a relationship. The powerful poems are presented in two parts with an introduction to her next book My Ontario Beautiful. (Th
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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somehow, after clicking around tonight I just found Author's Den, read some of your work and wanted to comment, so I joined and here I am.
What I wanted to ask you about was the degree to which the fish of your poem is attributed with human abilities, that is, how much am I to read this as a sexual poem, as compared to, say, a nature poem?
The fish (to my mind for some reason a masculine animal) seems to have a death wish, which makes me think of that aspect of female sexuality that seeks to give itself up in abandon (and danger?) to the masculine. So, and for other reasons, this seems to me a poem about seduction, but quite who is the predator it is hard to tell. There is something very anonymous and passive and even statuesque ("towards the pillars of his anchored thighs") about the poem's male figure, yet he is, at least literally speaking, the hunter, although a hunter who "feels their oneness".
I'm writing as I think. This may well be incoherent -- I am very tired. But, to push on to "her marble stare"... Such a deathly image, reminds me of Medusa, I wonder though if it should. Medusa most certainly did not want to be raped, and the fish in your poem most certainly does want to be caught. And for me this perhaps unintended association of mine brings me to what I see as the poem's problem. The fish is in its element in water, but is kissed to life when lifted free from its natural habitat. This I do not understand. I understand seduction and abandon as one possible doorway to liberation, but a fish being hooked through lip and gullet and yanked from its world seems to me too abrupt and hopeless a change, and death too fierce a liberation to be beneficial.
Perhaps in my immediate, rambling response I have missed the meaning, but hey, nobody's perfect.
However, I love the following:
"that flicker and twist of iris"
"the fan of her petalled gills"
"takes her by the lips and lifts her free"
They are lovely lines and images and sounds.
Cheers
Toby
Love Tinka
Hmmm s bend, reminds me i need to sort my s-bend under the sink...
well have fun fun fun on the pillars, great when they're all puffed up.. i'm of to my pillars now, i'm dead beat...
kewl kate kromlech.....
Be safe,
Karen
Love,
Sage
ET
guess the fishing was sublime!
peace,
carolyn
a doorway between this world and the next.
WOW! A Cromlech! Besides being very good, this poem deserves an award just for using that word!
My Seconds are listed below, so we should hear a unanimous Yes!
We continue to be treated to the erudite work of an English Master.
- Bill
Walt
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
You, my dear, are a true artist! :)
Every fisherman in the world will have his chest puffed out after reading this one..........You've made the sport epic........
unbelievable........I love this........
wow
a keeper!!!
I am delighted!
totally original!!!!!!!!!!!!!
pax a
Your poem stirs my imagination...and I LOVE to go fishing!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
No fish tale here: just wonderful, wonderful poetry! I felt each move, the relationship betwixt fisherman and fish. Sigh. Made me wish I was the fish! LOL Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
hugs
Fee