Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Spoken too soon

by Lien Cullinane

My hearts rhythm is the beat you bring me to bare
The timing skiffles through collective motions our selected channel does air
A skip with thought of loss or joy,
Flutters to greet, 
Pounds with love,
Melancholic in need,
Crashed cymbals of excitement fill a void in me
At moments it contracts but not for wrong,
Before exploding with instinct,
Blood rush courses,
A chase is on
I run through forests, 
Briars I pull,
Through water I wade and rocks I clear
I am both hunter and prey, 
You are my prize, caught in a tail wind
One moment a hawk and then a sparrow,
Glorious and vulnerable
You could play both shooter or conservationist
Shoot me down, or preserve for ever
For then and now the drum softens and slows to the chime of second clockbeat You lay in my arms,
My grasp,
My hue,
….pudum…pudum…pudum
it brings life to me, a life I give to you
My hearts rhythm is the beat you bring me to bare
The timing skiffles through collective motions our selected channel does air

A skip with thought of loss or joy,
Flutters to greet, 
Pounds with love,
Melancholic in need,
Crashed cymbals of excitement fill a void in me

At moments it contracts but not for wrong,
Before exploding with instinct,
Blood rush courses,
A chase is on

I run through forests, 
Briars I pull,
Through water I wade and rocks I clear
I am both hunter and prey, 
You are my prize, caught in a tail wind

One moment a hawk and then a sparrow,
Glorious and vulnerable
You could play both shooter or conservationist
Shoot me down, or preserve forever

For then and now the drum softens and slows to the chime of second clockbeat
You lay in my arms,
My grasp,
My hue,
….pudum…pudum…pudum
it brings life to me, a life I give to you

Added: 13.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

04.05.2011

Couldn't pick up a thread, left me wondering what it was really about

05.05.2011

There's a lot of passion and instinct in this, it's like the age-old love pursuit game, like a magical folk tale

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