Here is a dream of how the world ends.
The Abandoned Lighthouse
The end of all things
Consists of one long shallow
Stair to a closed door
In the abandoned lighthouse
On the rocky crag above
A frozen dead sea,
The wind at my back as I
Stare resigned to fate.
****************************
And here is a poem about truth telling and what I actually think about this poetic neck of the woods (all you poets offering up your work and love) in the complex world of blogging:
Poetry Heals
Sometimes I must bow
Before the people who come
With me on this trail.
I discover words
I never thought, lives not mine,
Truths I can’t say
By myself, not even now
That I know you said them first.
If poetry heals
Then we need all we can get -
That’s how rich it feels.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Poor in some ways, Rich in others...that is life
ReplyDeleteLove is the stuff inside
Teri and the cats of Furrydance
Ho!
ReplyDeleteSomehow your dream of how the world ends seems okay. There is so much beauty in an abandoned lighthouse, and even in a frozen sea.
ReplyDeleteI like 'Poetry Heals'. I think I have been thinking thoughts like these a lot recently... how words can heal. Glimpses into others and their truths, the feeling of connectedness saving us somehow. When a silence creeps in ... there is someone else out there speaking. It does feel rich and healing.
Thank you again for all your poems on my blog :)
Teri, perhaps poetry is like an exquisite sauce on the meat of life, incredibly rich in nuance, in the flavor of the highest forms of love. Hmm, just a little allegory.
ReplyDeleteCat, Ho, indeed! From the deep of the belly where the fire stirs, rises, igniting the torches at least six times on the way to heaven, beckoning the return of the white cascade of truth descending at least to the heart. Shit. Another allegory.
Faith, I write dependent on the presence of others. I am not a soloist but a harmonist, or at least I work in duet, and so I know I cannot be without a community, I simply cannot stand alone. The end of things in that first poem is my being alone there, and why most of my poems are about someone, to someone, with someone.
I know that feeling of the end...a solitary figure in the wind. I have felt that. And sometimes it can feel okay to let go.
ReplyDeleteYes, the poems are so often a conversation. I know mine are. A spark of a memory, a word from someone (like you) a glance at someone's art. Someone. All those someones crowding in. Sometimes I am not sure who they all are.
I think I know which old poem of mine I will post tonight.
Thanks for the spark :)
Indeed. As Cat said. Ho! When we hand off, pass it on, then there is more love in the world. He who dies in the midst of the most true love wins :)
ReplyDeleteMay we all flourish through it in '09!
ReplyDelete"If poetry heals,
ReplyDeleteThen we need all we can get -
That's how rich it feels."
Just this: Amen to that.
Flourishing is a good idea. Do I actually have to work for it?? Donwanna. I'm retired. Well, unemployed.
ReplyDeleteI'm really really tired of struggling.
I started to panic when I came over just now and didn't see any poetry. Maybe a blog glitch? Then I clicked on your February link, and here are your beautiful poems.
ReplyDeleteI love both poems. The lighthouse, of course, you know I love that. I also love these words in Poetry Heals:
I discover words
I never thought, lives not mine,
Truths I can’t say
By myself, not even now
That I know you said them first.
And the last stanza is right on. Very powerful.
Faith says it perfectly in her comments. There is a connection...and it is a wonderful feeling. Thanks for posting these gems.
Poetry heals....so rich and feels great doesn't it. I can't imagine how I got by before creating my blog and reading all of the other great ones. I somehow feel more connected in some strange way, and healed in so many others. Thanks for your poem. Your words speak volumes.
ReplyDeleteElle, thanks for visiting and for your kindness. Happy V Day to you.
ReplyDeleteAnd to all of you who come here, Happy Valentine's Day.
Love the lighthouse piece. It's beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jo. This one flowed and just came out like all the best ones I do. A slow steady pace with the right words just happening in order like I am taking dictation from a careful wordsmith going slow enough that I get each word the first time, or like turning a corner on each word, finding it lying there with no idea what happens next.
ReplyDeleteNot that everything I do that way is good, just that my best ones don't need any forcing at all.