top of page
  • By W.H. Martin

Procession Under Blue & Other Poems

Procession Under Blue

Asleep by dying fire,

listening in shaded wood –

a triumph of Dionysia.

Crested and clambering it came,

slicing through echoes of Eve –

crashing through thorny brush,

it danced to its own ripened theme.

Hanging beads of crystalline mist,

moved to cluster as ordered choral,

composing the complex of the wild temple.

Awake beneath the gilded hemisphere,

where satellites fall,

like shards of Phaethon,

burning blue,

rending maw and mane –

synthetic rhythms of the occupied heavens.

Through the passing clamour,

broken limbed chaos spoke:

Be as the forest, both dead and alive.

The She of He

Softness alive as Sibylla in man; Anima of the sun.

Her will fulfilled by staring,

into the mirrors She holds,

over the mouths of wells,

and across the face of the sea,

reflecting Her beloved dead,

She praises the hum of the churning.

Delicate mineral; body salted as Venusian skin,

Flowered flight on twisting bull,

bearing orbs of plenty,

through blooming wreaths,

wading waters deep,

She steps upon the land,

as beast and as slain.

Veiled priestess under moonlit mountain; fed with blood and vapor,

From heightened seat,

cut of pale marble,

Her animal eyes wreak depth,

pushing rivers through steaming stone,

with brutal growls,

She chants as Her Love burns in the sky.

W.H. Martin is a writer, visual artist, and hunter from southern Quebec. With a strong appreciation for classical mythology, his work engages archetypal themes regarding the role of the modern human within the natural cycle. He has an upcoming book titled, "The City in the Wilderness: A Curated Glimpse at a World Overcome."

1 Comment

Oct 12, 2023

The sublimity of W.H. Martin’s language and the imagery that he creates are very powerful—his poems almost have a mystical vibe to them. There is something about his style that is very unique and different. I can’t quite put my finger on what that “something” is, but whatever it is, I absolutely love it! I thoroughly enjoyed both of these amazing poems, as well as the two that were published back in July. I find myself repeatedly going back to reread them. I especially love these lines from “Procession Under Blue”:

Through the passing clamour,

broken limbed chaos spoke:

Be as the forest, both dead and alive.

I am in awe! I look forward to reading more of W.H. Martin’s…

bottom of page