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Giza Booty

May 19, 2012

 

 

old breath presses our backs
in the half-lit hustle,
cameras knocking bones and angles
on the threshold of Cheop’s
den

silica dust and expectation
rasp our breathing, we’re bent
on the incline – packed
close as slaves
ascending.

shouldering the jostle and swallowed
panic, wrapped in moted muffle,
we blink ahead, Pharoah’s
corbelled eyes
tugging.

The Grand Gallery squashes us
flat as scarab beetles creaking,
aflutter, lungs full now
with necropolis
smoulder.

heads brink the weight of dynasties
re-cycled in our scurried grab –

gaping The King’s Chamber,
shutters explode in paparazzi
acclamation

blunt plunder that embalms the day
and seals our muted stutter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Tuesday, it’s Open Link Night @dVerse Poets Pub: http://dversepoets.com/ – can’t get enough of that poetry.

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29 Comments
  1. you’ve brought this to life…i’ll bet you could feel the weight of it

  2. wicked flow in this..and some really nice touches along the way as well to egyptian culture, but i think this is about more than that…smiles…really like the title as well its got a crispness to it…

  3. hedgewitch permalink

    Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.. is the first reaction, then a bit of dazzle at how well the words crowd physically together into your images, and the lovely standout lines–“..heads brink the weight of dynasties
    re-cycled in our scurried grab..”
    Thanks for taking me on a tour I would otherwise never get, Becky.

  4. Such a wonderfully visual write with great flow–Loved this!

  5. Really enjoyed reading this, the words are all so well written. Thank you.

  6. shouldering the jostle and swallowed
    panic, wrapped in moted muffle<<
    we blink ahead, Pharoah’s
    corbelled eyes
    tugging

    RA! RA! RA! – Raiders of the Lost Ark 😀

  7. Shawna permalink

    Excellent rumble of sound from beginning to end, as if you might start an avalanche with any
    misstep.

    This is my favorite:
    “silica dust and expectation
    rasp our breathing, we’re bent
    on the incline”

    And also these:

    “squashes us
    flat as scarab beetles”

    “lungs full now
    with necropolis
    smoulder”

    “blunt plunder that embalms the day
    and seals our muted stutter”

    • Thanks, Shawna.. love the ‘rumble of sound’ response. You picked out my favourite bits too..

  8. I’ve never experienced anything like this but after reading this piece, I feel like I have – I could feel the “Grand Gallery” squashing me. Love the flow of this, especially the alliteration at the end.

  9. The Grand Gallery squashes us
    flat as scarab beetles creaking,
    aflutter, lungs full now
    with necropolis
    smoulder.

    Stunning work Becky, this stanza breathtaking, took me deep into my own memories, made more alive by your magnificent language!

    • Fantastic, Anna.. that’s just what I was hoping to achieve. Had to sink right back into the memory to re-create it…

  10. ha…the old egyptians couldn’t have been more exciting..smiles…fine write becky..

  11. Thanks, Claudia… much appreciated.

  12. This is incredibly vivid!

  13. Laurie Kolp permalink

    Tight, succinct piece, Becky… so beautiful and well-crafted. Mutted slutter- I love the sound of that.

    • Laurie Kolp permalink

      oops… muted (but mutted sounds good, too- hehe)

      • Laurie Kolp permalink

        Stutter! I need to shut up and go to bed.

  14. haha Laurie… 10/10 for effort! Thanks for your comments.. always appreciated.

  15. I think mutted slutter belongs in an entirely different poem, perhaps one that I will later write. Nice job Beck, you did instill a sense of timelessness which I think makes the poem worthy of its subject matter. By the way I’m new here and I’ll be back.

    • Thank you Elliot – welcome and I’m looking forward to your return visit! Yep, mutted stutter is beautifully cluttered.. 🙂 I’m very happy to hear you found something worthwhile here.

  16. I like it Becky, I’ve read this one a few times too and (obviously) it’s one I keep coming back to.
    I like that the modifiers in this poem really work for you. Atmosphere too, you get drawn in, hit a bunch of modifiers, the ranks close up and it is like that the whole way up – to the peak of this poem… drawn on by Pharoah’s corbelled eyes. A stuttered – muted explosion is good, and plunder. and the comparison to the lines of slaves. I guess that is what I am saying- the poem is what it is and then it is something again, not nearly so obvious. And where do we fit, and what does that say about us?

    I admit that one of my favourite books is ‘River God’ by Wilbur Smith. Really really enjoyed this.

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