From the Mouth of Irazú Volcano
Image by Sony
Image by Sony
From the Mouth of the Irazú Volcano (Costa Rica) Filled with Flower Petals
by McCann, Filmed by Sony (No Help From Chekhov)
I’d as lief they left
my lava alone.
If I wanted petals,
I’d live under a cherry tree–
hell, I’d live under a whole
cherry orchard.
I’d write plays
of gloomy paralysis,
the intellectual class going
kaput.
But my harvest
is soot, and my flow glows
even in the eyes of those
wearing little round glasses.
I’ve grown a hole
in this mountain,
filled it
with sky,
limned it
with fire,
rooted it
in rock–charging ahead
to the blossoming of ash
that all cultivate
in the end,
even ad men,
women,
playwrights,
and when I use the word ‘lief’,
it has an I in it.
************************
A rather silly draft poem for the wonderful Susie Clevenger’s prompt on Real Toads about a quite remarkable video made of flower petals dropped in a volcano (the idea to show the high quality of the color of the computer screen.) All my best wishes to Susie and her family.
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Tags: Chekhov Had Nothing To Do With This Poem, de-ashed, From the Mouth of a Volcano poem, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, I'd as lief they let me be poem, manicddaily, Sony lava petals
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ManicDDaily 
June 5, 2015 at 1:30 pm
Great pace in this poem, k–the short snapped off phrases deliver a lot of instant impact, both visual and mental–I mean, in fostering ideas–the race to the end is like lava running downhill to the tight and epigraphic conclusion–love the references to Chekhov’s tortured(and tortuous) world, in contrast with the rather more forthright violence of nature, whether exploding in petals or rock, frankly doing what it does. (Small typo in second stanza, btw)
June 5, 2015 at 2:15 pm
Hey Joy–I have no doubt of typos given my failing vision and concentration both, but can’t find it. Wait–maybe I used equal signs–ha. I’ll check again. k
June 5, 2015 at 2:16 pm
I’d found it! (Ha)
June 5, 2015 at 4:28 pm
I think I would prefer the gentle fall of petals too… those cascading bursts of sooty petals might be fancy, but give me an orchard any day,
June 5, 2015 at 7:18 pm
As always with your ‘drafts’, I like this very much. I enjoy your voice.
June 5, 2015 at 8:05 pm
Thanks so much, Rosemary. k.
June 5, 2015 at 8:26 pm
I think this is just a hoot, K. Very, very clever.
June 5, 2015 at 9:35 pm
Ha. I must say that I would much rather cherry blossoms in particular. But there is beauty even in the volcano, even a gangerous beauty – and the obsidian that comes from it as well.
Ha that last bit made me smile too.
June 5, 2015 at 9:40 pm
I rather enjoyed your POV, K! 🙂
June 6, 2015 at 12:05 am
I love it! Such a unique take on the challenge…the viewpoint of a volcano. Thanks so much for taking part in the challenge!
June 6, 2015 at 6:31 am
Thanks, Susie. Best of luck. k .
June 6, 2015 at 1:43 am
I once climbed an active volcano in Congo, Nyiragongo, although to our chagrin it did not blow (until many years later). Cold at the summit – some 12,000 feet (lower now) we were unprepared, having trekked up from the much warmer lower elevations in a morning. It’s not surprising, then, how much your pen reminds me of what trembles beneath our facile patina of civilization. ~
June 6, 2015 at 6:31 am
Sounds fantastic, M. I am sure it must have been very memorable. I think your experience probably made the poem more vivid than it is! k.
June 6, 2015 at 5:03 am
The volcano blossoms enough already with its vomitous calyx — leave the kid alone! Besides, what do we know of art …
June 6, 2015 at 5:38 am
If I wanted petals,
I’d live under a cherry tree–
Sometimes one gets bothered unnecessarily by others who may have good intentions
Hank.
June 6, 2015 at 7:52 am
An amazing flow in this gorgeous piece 😀
Lots of love,
Sanaa
June 6, 2015 at 11:13 am
I didn’t think this was silly at all – such a unique perspective from the volcanic point of view. I loved the satire of:
I’d write plays
of gloomy paralysis,
the intellectual class going
kaput.
And very much applaud:
But my harvest
is soot, and my flow glows
even in the eyes of those
wearing little round glasses.
June 6, 2015 at 3:24 pm
The reference to the cherry orchard is one I understand – I walked under the trees in Prospect Park, Brooklyn a few weeks ago. Felt I was in a dreamland. Your poem points out, I think, that whos to say where true beauty is – yes, the petals are harmless – but there is something quite mesmerizing about lava.