Saturday, March 20, 2010

At least one unburned codex

Then we came later inland
through the frilly cordillera,
chilled by the knee-deep torrents
and chaffed by the wet spray
and scraped skins of alpaca,
slipped through the paths
of printed shale footprints
and reached a shimmering desert
that mirrored our dry salvation.

The emerald dead whom we carried,
we entombed in a barrow of promise
which we rose from the sand with sweaty hands
under the pitiless grin of a parching sun.

Above the barrow we erected many blades
painted red and black in memory of oars
which we used to pierce the drifting sky
in honor of the Beauty of Pachamama.

When the silent crows blackened the outskirts
we gathered our kit and left in silence too.

Please remember what we were like
before the others came.


  1. lots of excitment in this piece Gerry, well done

  2. mother earth
    children's children past
    desset flowers
    look life from within
    we learn new from aged time.

    thank you gerry boyd.

  3. vivid iconography,
    beautiful lyricism & rhythm,
    and as always, intriguing
    vocabulary ... (i loved
    "the frilly cordillera" ... a lot).

    well done Gerry!


  4. Lots of empty sky and desert, Gerry. I feel parched. But it's a satisfied kind of parched... like I'm thirsty but not hungry. That was awesome!


  5. This has the beauty of a ritual remembering. I enjoyed it very much.

  6. It's a plea, isn't it? Unfortunately, it is difficult to remember befores like this. The present seems to overwrite them.

    This is a gorgeous piece, Gerry. You always use colour to its fullest.


  7. This is a little gift. Second stanza sparkles effortlessly. Brilliantly done.

  8. @william: excitement is good, right?

    @11.00: You're welcome. I like your words also.

    @noxy: Thanks a bunch.

    @Nevine: First time one of my poems made someone want a drink. I think. ;-)

    @FS: Thanks.

    @WIAW: Hey, I didn't confuse you. What's up with that? Wait 'til next week. xo

    @Megans: Thanks. I think I might have stolen the combo of "pitiless" and "sun" from Camus. Shhh! This poem morphed quite a bit from its original subject, all because I wanted to use the word "cordillera" and the original geography wouldn't work.

  9. great! lovly words, & use of imagery!

  10. "paths of printed shale footprints"
    I like the idea that print is static, but shale moves endlessly beneath our feet as we walk...

  11. Metaphorical & metaphysical! To date, one of my favorites. I wait patiently for your poetry to appear in my Reader!

  12. @Johnsie Noel: Too kind, really. I'm at ~weekly posting, and sometimes weakly at that. ;-) Much obliged.

  13. the last two lines are sublime.
    they complete and disrupt what comes before.... nicely done.

  14. Lovely poem indeed...thanks for sharing with us :)


  15. @Harlequin: Thanks for getting those lines. I tried to read them out loud but it made me cry.

    @Marinela: Appreciate your stopping by. Sharing equals pleasure for me.

  16. .

    i will remember

    the unbroken mountain ranges and torrents
    the unbroken skins

    the unbroken paths and footprints
    the unbroken mirrors

    the unbroken promises and beauties
    the unbroken hands

    the unbroken blades and oars
    the unbroken sky

    i will remember
    the unbroken silence
    when you wrote these words
    with your own burning blood


  17. @human being: stunning response. just beautiful. thanks.

  18. The poem was a splendidly pulsating read. And the way you end your poems .. is fantastic indeed !!

  19. a lot of colour... longing for the good old days...Things have changed and silence has gone from life

  20. @aditya: Thank you indeed.

    @Nalini: Welcome. Good topics for poetry, no?

  21. Needless to say, this resonates strongly within me. The title, the wording, the stream of consciousness - all flawless!

    Thank you for such good poetry.

    - ItzQuauhtli, Herald of Quetzalcoatl

  22. @OE: I suspected you might this. I'd like to think that I could someday feel pity for the ignorant conquistadors, but I am not so sure.