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Aleksandra

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Since I started to walk through love, I found pearls and stones.

Since I started exploring the universe, I was freezing and burning.

 

 

I spit out my bitter words right into my face.

I loved to drift in my world; it spit me out of its coast.

Facing the skeletons, I see myself out of the heavenly gate.

I lost the key -- somewhere -- exactly where I found the way to Heaven.

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The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

:icon_cool: :party on: :507652:

 

aleks this is something different from you. the exploration you leave the reader to imagine what at the end of the poem. everyone has skeletons in the closet, especially me. my dad ended up explaining to me how they make wine and beer. my aint diane before she passed away in 1979 married a man and his parents own a winery and vineyard in washington state and califonia in the usa. i don't think we keep in touch with them anymore tho. :rolleyes:

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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Aleks-

 

Fascinating piece- I would drop the 'the' before skeletons... It seems the rumination is as follows: The paths of inquiry lead to engagement with particular states/things Love leads to the world and the world leads to the state of love.

 

Geography/Self/Shadow Spit you out and you achieve Heaven by forgetting the quest and becoming one with the journey...

 

Or so it reads to me ;-)

 

Many Thanks!

 

DC

Gate(less.thumb.png.dc23b19d2478d37a9f6fcdc563973026.pnghttps://conjurd.substack.com/welcome Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-)

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Alek, I think the part that hurts the most is here:

 

I loved to drift in my world; it spit me out of its coast.

Facing the skeletons, I see myself out of the heavenly gate.

It's like setting out on a reckless course of action while being fully aware of the consequences. It seems to read in a fresh way, "The party's over, and it's time to pay the piper" ... only without the irony and with the expected sadness.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Hi Alek, This is really nice. I felt a struggle going on... pushing and pulling at you at the same time. I loved your line,

 

I loved to drift in my world; it spit me out of its coast.

 

I actually had a similar thought not long ago... being spit up onto the shore by an angry sea... I wrote it in my notebook to come back to a write a poem around it. You beat me to it. ;)

 

I enjoyed reading this.

 

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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aleks this is something different from you. the exploration you leave the reader to imagine what at the end of the poem.

 

Hi Victor. About the end of the poem, I should apologize because when you read the poem and made a comment I saw that I forgot to write down the word: Heaven. The poem finished with the word - to the. So that made a confusion.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me. I am not familiar with making beer but wine and brandy... :icon_cool:

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Aleks-

 

Fascinating piece- I would drop the 'the' before skeletons... It seems the rumination is as follows: The paths of inquiry lead to engagement with particular states/things Love leads to the world and the world leads to the state of love.

 

Geography/Self/Shadow Spit you out and you achieve Heaven by forgetting the quest and becoming one with the journey...

 

Or so it reads to me ;-)

 

Many Thanks!

 

DC

 

Thank you Juris. I would think about your idea. Thank you for looking deeper.You dont read bad :).

I like how you read my poem.

 

Thank you.

 

Alek

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Alek, I think the part that hurts the most is here:

 

I loved to drift in my world; it spit me out of its coast.

Facing the skeletons, I see myself out of the heavenly gate.

It's like setting out on a reckless course of action while being fully aware of the consequences. It seems to read in a fresh way, "The party's over, and it's time to pay the piper" ... only without the irony and with the expected sadness.

 

Tony

 

Tony, you are not so far from the point of this poem. Thank you for the comment.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Hi Alek, This is really nice. I felt a struggle going on... pushing and pulling at you at the same time. I loved your line,

 

I loved to drift in my world; it spit me out of its coast.

 

I actually had a similar thought not long ago... being spit up onto the shore by an angry sea... I wrote it in my notebook to come back to a write a poem around it. You beat me to it. ;)

 

I enjoyed reading this.

 

~~Tink

 

 

 

 

Ah Tink :). Don't worry just do your poem. I am sure it will be in different level. I don't have the sea :).

 

Thank you for your warm comment.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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goldenlangur

Hi Alexander,

 

 

A haunting poem which shows the duality of experience: In love, both pearls and stones - being feted and spurned.In the exploration of the universe, there's a widening of boundaries and a closing of doors/minds too.

 

This perception of duality rather than a seamless embracing of the universe and life causes ferment and a battle within the poet

 

I spit out my bitter words right into my face.

Facing the skeletons, I see myself out of the heavenly gate.

 

 

 

I get a sense that the pursuit of love or Muse is wrought with both joy and pain and in finding one , one might well lose the other or the self:

 

I loved to drift in my world; it spit me out of its coast.

 

I lost the key -- somewhere -- exactly where I found the way to Heaven.

 

 

A kind of Faustian dilemma and Janus-like this aspiration to reach beyond the self in love and art.

 

 

I'm not sure I got your intent right. But thank for a thought-provoking poem.

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Hello GL. I really appericate your wonderful comment. You always have much to say and that means to me a lot. I like the connection what you made with Faustian dilemma. Glad you like this poem, and I love your reading.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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