View From The Northern Wall: My Sinking Soul

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

My Sinking Soul

Om Mani Om

You have called it forth,
the sea of my love weaving
with tendrils of foam
the final fey form
of my sinking soul singing
out its loss of you,
a bottomless tone
like a Tibetan chanting
an endless slow drone.

September 18, 2010 12:46 AM

2 comments:

AnonymousJune 26, 2014 at 5:03 AM
Lovely poem from your cache. Equally lovely pic of boho style with nice touch of money plant.
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TomJune 26, 2014 at 8:27 AM
There is always death in loving.
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

The View From The Northern Wall

Some years ago my poetry took on a mythic flavor and I became a character in my own poems, a mage, "the man of the Northern Wall". This apellation is not completely fictional. My middle name is Noordwal, a Dutch term for north wall, though in current Dutch it mainly means north bank as in riverbank. I was told that an ancestor, a Portugese Jew escaping the Inquisition, settled in a small Dutch town and took this name from where he settled, near the north wall of the town. I have thought for a long time that -wal meant wall, think my mother told me that. A linguist might say that my usage is no longer common, is an older usage, but then the Inquisition happened in Portugal a few centuries ago, right around the time the Moors lost control of the Iberian Peninsula and the Jews lost the modest protection given them by Islam. Now I write as this mage, my poetry persona.

View From The Northern Wall

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

My Sinking Soul

2 comments:

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