Sunday 13 December 2009

A seasonal poem 'Hieroglyph Moth' from The Treekeeper's Tale

For years I'd kept a postcard of a tropical hieroglyph moth bought at the Natural History Museum in London. It gave me a particular feeling, those hieroglyph colours on its white furry wings:



As I was writing my last collection The Treekeeper's Tale and had already written two "moth" poems, 'Atlas Moth' and 'Moon Moths (in the Day Room)', I thought surely it's time for me to write that hieroglyph moth, so I did. The poem for me has some of the feeling I associate with the visual image, the colour language on those snow-wings, and the meaning is meant to be quite open-ended, though it makes me think of how I learnt English when I was seven, the newness of the language and the country (mid-Wales) I was having to adapt to from Paris. How hard I found it until someone gave me a picture dictionary. There were the English words below the pictures and after that it all came clear. The three moth poems are in The Treekeeper's Tale, along with other ice and snow poems 'Siberian Ice Maiden', 'Frozen Horses' and much else.



Hieroglyph Moth

When the white ermine wings

opened at night

like a book of frost

smoking in the dark,

I understood the colours of vowels

painted on moth fur –

the black, red, saffron signs

of a new language.

Antennae grew from my forehead,

my tongue was restless in its chrysalis.

I felt lift-off

as if my bones had melted.
I stepped out into the snow –

not even an exoskeleton to protect me

in this strange country.

17 comments:

  1. Lovely, Pascale. it's like an old beekeeper said to me: in the end you think like a bee.
    SallyE

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  2. Hi Sally,
    I love to think of you thinking like a bee, and all those books in your bookshop a hive. Maybe if I become the hieroglyph moth I can understand its language. Px

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  3. Wonderful poem. I love 'ermine wings' 'I understood the colours of vowels' and the moment you become the moth with antennae growing from the forehead and tongue 'restless in it's chrsyalis'. I can really feel that - and the lift off into the snow with bones melting. The idea of no protection in a strange country is so suggestive of what a lot of people must feel too.

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  4. Thanks Adele,

    for your encouragement. I had that postcard for so many years before I was able to write about it, which gives me hope for poems I still can't write. I hope other outsiders 'aliens'! can relate to it as you say.

    Px

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  5. What a beautiful offering... I love how sensual it is... colors and feelings and textures.
    Gorgeous, Pascale.
    x

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  6. Lovely worked -- I'm lucky to have stumbled upon it.

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  7. what an inspiring moth and a beautiful poem...

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  8. 'like a book of frost smoking in the dark,' - cryingly beautiful. The moment I stepped into your poem your words breathed life into the moth, causing it to flutter softly round the light of my soul. Absolutely wonderful ... thank you.

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  9. When the white ermine wings

    opened at night


    like a book of frost

    smoking in the dark,

    Absolutely love this poem, especially the first two stanzas above. Brilliant imagery. Love it.

    I can see this whole poem as though it is right in front of me now.

    I felt lift off as if my bones had melted is fantastic also.

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  10. Thank you Val and Peter. Very pleased you like it. I take some heart from the fact that I stared at that postcard of the moth for oh at least ten years before I found a way to describe the feeling it gave me. It gives me hope for other images I still can't write.
    Pxx

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  11. Oh...take more than some heart that you will write.... Many of us carry images, memories of sounds, smells ,tastes and feelings around for decades. It can take that long to grow into the creative language that allows a soul to sing the sublime praise of small miracles.

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  12. Magnificent poem, Pascale, lovely that you've dedicated those words to the refugees. X

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  13. Magnificent poem, Pascale, and wonderful that you've dedicated it now to the refugees. X

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  14. Thank you, Pascale, for a stunning poem. Truly beautiful. It surprises. Like when a moth, absolutely still for so long, suddenly flutters, and takes your breath away.

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  15. Thank you Amanda, so encouraging, Px

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