Two Poems

Rob Harle
by Robert Maddox_Harle (aka Rob Harle)


Screeching Blackness

an insect shrills the night air
shrill    shrill …………………… SHRILL!
all becomes silent and then …………….. CRASH!
echoes crash the forest dark ….. CRASH!
screaming blackness bounces off old trees
a machine hummms in the distance …… WAITING!
an insect-like machine hummming  ….SCEAMING,
waiting for its master ……………….. WAITING!
more insects scream and screech and shrill,
screech – scream - shrill
silence blankets the darkness – quiet – quiet – quiet
a heartbeat of silence then ………. SCREECH!
the dark noise is menacing, penetrating
violent ….. CRASH!
echoes crash the forest dark  ……… CRASH!
Murderous-like screams ……. screaming,
unforgiving ….. brutal ….. intense
TWANG! ……………….. push-pull ……………..TWANG!
ping ….. ping ….. TWANG!
high pitch vibrations …… violently agitated
shake the leaves from trees,
they fall forever into blackness
as the forest falls silent.

This poem was inspired by the work of composer Karlheinz Stockhausen, especially his work “Kontakte”



Sand Dunes At Dusk

the sand dunes-  still warm
surround me as the sun departs,
each rippling ridge receding
receding,           receding,            receding
disappearing in the salty saffron haze.

relentlessly the waves crash,
then swirl and whoosh towards me
swirling-whooshing, swirling-whooshing, swirling-whooshing,
crash-swirl-whoosh, crash-swirl-whoosh, crash-swirl-whoosh.

incessant screeching of gleaming white gulls
competing with the waves’ crashing-swirling-whooshing
create a counterpoint cacophony
ever rising, surging, silvering
screeching, swirling, crashing, receding.
then the crashing, whooshing, swirling starts again
crash-swirl-whoosh, crash-swirl-whoosh, crash-swirl-whoosh.

a mysterious moon, rising ever so slowly
slowly,        slowly,            slowly
rising slowly,        rising slowly,          rising slowly
casts silvery shadows
dancing fluorescent, iridescent, hauntingly
dancing on the silvery, swirling, crashing
Crashing -  Crashing  - Crashing
the crashing haunts me, haunts me, haunts me
as the darkness descends
and steals my eyes away.


This poem was inspired by Philip Glass’s “Glassworks” composition.

1 comment :

  1. Great Rob; you might say that these poems are 'in the moment' and, being acquainted as I am with Stockhausen's Kontakte I see what you're implying. The screeching blackness is audible, almost tangible in an avant garde sort of way. Likewise with Sand Dunes at Dusk, appropriately different. I too like Philip Glass's compositions, and his very different, but cumulative style is well reflected in the build up of the poem. I recommend turning your attention now to Arvo Part and John Taverner; equally rewarding I suggest.

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