Ochre Ledger, Folding Sky
arkayye
I write in the margin where the ink has already bled—
naming the river only by the sound it makes
when it forgets its source.
A gum-leaf curls into a question,
and the wind answers by flinging a bicycle bell into the ochre dusk.
arqios
Stone remembers the weight of the mason’s hand.
Even in ruin, the lintel leans toward its absent door.
I catalogue the fractures—
not to repair them—
but to keep the record honest.
Then suddenly: a rush—
rainwater tumbling through the nave like coins from a split purse.
rkay
Between the lines, a chorus of moths
beats against the lamplight—
their wings spelling a script
no archivist will claim.
They scatter,
then return in a frenzy,
as if the air itself were a page
and the ochre dust their only ink.
arquious
The map folds in on itself,
coastlines kissing in improbable reunion.
I trace the seam with a bone stylus,
feeling for the pulse of a country
that exists only when the paper is closed.
Pause—
then a burst:
the seam splits,
and the idea tumbles through my skull like a loose bullet.
crypticbard
In the last stanza,
I hide the key in a rhyme no one uses anymore.
It will take a century of misreadings
before someone sings it under their breath
and the door swings open—
ochre light spilling across the threshold
like a memory that refuses to stay still.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 15th, 2025 03:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments4
A majestic poem worthy of display in any text of poetry. This poem does not speak or shout but rumbles in its whispers haunting the imagination with metaphoric shadows. Like a fish below deep waters where only movement can be detected in darkness it swims growing in the imagination. An unseen rustle in the dark that raises hair and gooseflesh. It is the unknown shadows of this poem that make that rumble in haunted whispers. A truly great work Cryptic
Thank you so much, dear Soren. It took about a month to bring this poem about from putting it together. It was a real journey in its making. I am deeply grateful to you. 🙏🕊️
The work shows as does the patience in this wonderful poem so full of possibilities that I doubt that any that read it will take it the same way. It holds that archetypal surge that leads to branching meanings. Your work is amazing and most satisfying and you are most welcome it is always a pleasure to read.
Now on to continuing the search for the best poop cleaner, as per your latest gift to the site🕊️🙏🏻
The media have been working on that for years and now sell it every day on all markets
oh, I must be really slow on the uptake, then! 😂🙏
Major fave! This is stunning, arqios…the fractures, the moths, the seam tearing open. It reads like memory and myth folding into each other, impossible to pin down yet impossible to forget. You’ve built something vast here. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
That is most honouring. Thanks, Tittu. And memories do have that power that is also quite impossible to forget. May the vastness last beyond our years. 🕊️🙏
Wonderful words and layout Rik.
Andy
Thanks, Andy. Your comment on the layout is indeed a great help🕊️🙏🏻
Nicely done. A fine write.
Thanks, Tom. Much appreciated 🕊️🙏🏻
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