Primeval Of All Flame Poem by Sandra Fowler

Primeval Of All Flame

Rating: 4.5


The fire licks like a red dog at your boot
And I can only marvel that you tame
A thing so savage and essential at its root
Back down to the primeval of all flame.
Soot pictures on the walls time out of mind
Scratched out by hands as sudden as bird claws
No clock records the moment when unsigned
The sun walked barbarously across those flaws.
I might have been the woman of that cave
From whom you captured day in stick and stones
Blowing your breath on crimson coals to save
The wonder of that last light on her bones.
Then afterwards when darkness filled the room
There would be hieroglyphics on the tomb.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Will Barber 08 May 2006

Who voted less than 10/ should be sent to school again.

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Uriah Hamilton 23 February 2006

Very vivid, passionate and intense! I view it more as deep-seated desire and experience mixed with great craft than commentary. Way to go.

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Phil Sanders 24 February 2006

Again... such wonderful imagery.. you paint beautiful pictures and emotions with your lovely words... Phil

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Gregory Gunn 25 February 2006

Dear Sandra, The old iambic pentameter Sonnet. I personally loved that form, but alas have merely written a half dozen of any worth. The level of difficulty is extremely high as I can attest to, so major marks from me. 'No clock records the moment when unsigned / The sun walked barbarously across those flaws / 'is a stand-out. Imagery a delight. Let me be the first to know when you pen another sonnet. Sincerely, Gregory XOX

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Bengt O Björklund 06 March 2006

The way you handle the English language makes me feel glad, just to slowly listen to your words echoing behind my eyes. Bengt

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Fay Slimm 06 April 2009

This glows all the way through with mystery and ancient lore - - you paint with more than sticks Sandra and make the whole scene alive.... your imagination works it's wonders with this one with your usual flair...... first class..... love Fay...xx

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Alison Cassidy 31 December 2008

Sandra this is Attenborough camera close. You share your cave with untamed images and take the reader back to early man and bones and matted hair and a first inscription on weathered walls. 'Blowing your breath on crimson coals to save The wonder of that last light on her bones.' is particularly memorable. A sonnet to die for. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

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Robert Howard 10 February 2008

This is phenomenal! All of the vintage imagery of Sandra clasped around untamed essence at its source. Unbelievably powerful.

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Bill Grace 10 September 2007

I am afraid on the second reading I agree with Will Barber. Sort of takes your breath away. Bill Grace

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Elysabeth Faslund 08 July 2007

Major, major, major! This one does it big time. Incredible understanding and feeling. Subject matter superb, style fits story/poem. I'm speechless. To find one of the subjects I love, right under my nose, done in a poem. Will, this is a 100.xxElysabeth

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Sandra Fowler

Sandra Fowler

W. Columbia, WV, USA
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