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Poetry Magnum Opus

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Posted

letters

 

The Terror of putting pen to paper or

expressing with fingers Strange Spirits

I say that this world is The Pit

filled with danger betrayal and sorrow

 

You misunderstand me

translating from your High Tower

the view of this path that winds

from womb to tomb

 

nodding agreement

a spoiled garden filled with rust

archaic dreams abandoned monuments

follies of the immutable never-changing

certainties of Eternity

 

Willing to see in only One direction

A rumor the Ghosts have spread

the Finger-Bone Reincarnation Finder

has been stolen

effectively eliminating the Way

to find the reborn

 

Dear Incarnated

 

We have fallen for the Trap of technique and directionality

The Garden is filled with Birds and Insects and Plants

and Microorganisms The mythic-Apple only a latch

Please open the Window and stare for a moment

beyond your conceits of Time and Eternity.

Posted

Wow Dr.Con. This is a hard poem for me, and I need to re-read it a few more times. What I noticed right away is the mysticism and the morbid images. Powerful ending too.

 

Much enjoyed dc.

 

Aleksandra

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

History of Macedonia

 

 

Posted

Thanks Aleks! (and Thanks everyone who has kindly commented on Plastic Shaman, but I barely let that one out, and feel this is better work- at least in my opinion, so trying to let it drop ;-)

 

Glad you took the challenge and enjoyed!

 

 

DC

Posted

A thesis on reader and writer dialogue, DC? I found in it an exhortation to be generous of each other.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

Posted

Perhaps this is a criticism of formalism and of the critics who look at every work of literary art from the formalist's perspective. Your poem reminds me a lot of Louise Glück's ARCHAIC FRAGMENT. It gets personal --

 

You misunderstand me

translating from your High Tower

the view of this path that winds

from womb to tomb

 

nodding agreement

a spoiled garden filled with rust

archaic dreams abandoned monuments

follies of the immutable never-changing

certainties of Eternity

-- but in the end, the poet offers a brilliant new perspective:

 

Dear Incarnated

 

We have fallen for the Trap of technique and directionality

The Garden is filled with Birds and Insects and Plants

and Microorganisms ...

I loved it!

 

Tony

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

  • 2 weeks later...
Posted

Thanks Tony, JJ

 

Been a bit pre-occupied with ego-bound evolutionary impulses as of late, so have been a bit lame on my crits etc. Will try to catch up this week! I am very gratified you both found something of worth in this piece...

 

Much Appreciation!

 

DC&J

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