Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Three poems by Connie Stadler

Three poems
by Connie Stadler


… and with that warmth
came the thaw
as it always comes.

but through embryonic sight
the death of the icicle
was not mourned.

rather, each transmogrifying droplet
was savored in singular rite of passage.
swollen liquefaction.
slow bulbous form, released proliferous
burst, leaving a wake of abundant

and the thing itself,
this shape shift stalactite
of bright dancing water.

ripples softening
fading, fading
illumed firm moist.

as all beauty, ephemeral, yet savored
the dénouement is epiphanic.

… the heart floods …

I will soon see you, my chimera,
on sparkling, watered


The Dreamers (a sequel)

We walk the back lot of Universal Studios
You bring me Paris.
I tremble as you lean in for that final shot
That kiss.
But instead you whisper words
I do not understand
As we move to the bar filled with a wartime chorus
Of “Lili Marlene”
A siren sounds,
My hand in yours
We watch the final moment
Of the Towering Inferno, knowing
I am safe from faux hot steel.

Shelley Winters is dripping wet.
And I am cold.
Suddenly, Chopin,
A meadow,
Nigh shoulder high with cornflowers and
Equally winsome weeds.
I cannot find you.
But following the pull
Behold a strewn green bed.

Fade out.


Nerve Endings

Long and measured
Murdered hours.

Each pulsation
Thrums fresh torment
From finger to forearm
Flexor to digiti
Every rush of coursed blood
Wings newborn writhe.

My world is finite.
Only this, Only this…

A universe packaged

How many times
Have I wished for such simplicity?

How many years have I yearned
For a thoughtless existence?

Now, mine.

And all I suffer
Is the consequence.

Author bio:

Constance Stadler has been writing, publishing, and editing poetry from the ‘prehistoric’ epoch of print journals to modern e-times. She was a former editor of South and West and is currently a contributing editor to the e-zine Eviscerator Heaven and Review Editor for Calliope Nerve. She has published over 300 poems and three chapbooks in her ‘first manifestation’ as a poet, and has just released first two chaps in 20 years, Tinted Steam (Shadow Archer Press) Sublunary Curse (Erbacce) an eBook, Paper Cuts (Calliope Nerve) and, with Rich Follett, full length hardcover, Responsorials (NeoPoiesis Press).

1 comment:

Tim Buck said...

Something I've noticed about Constance Stadler's poems: when you read them, you sense that reality has had a new affective dimension added to it. As if a subtle fissure of feeling has opened new space for the reader to experience. Well...I suppose reality can't really get any bigger...but it does seem, with her poetry, that something poignant has been added to it. Or maybe it's that her words have a quiet conjuring power, like our dreams.