Posts tagged ‘poetry’
of shattered moments
form fractal expressions
of beauty, made
by the shaping of near-molten metal,
are many forms of speech.
the image is of a smith at his (her) trade, hammering almost liquid metal
the fragments of you i remember
i know are (half? mostly?)
certainly part self-perception
like seeking true reflection
in the scattered bits
of a shattered mirror
frantically seeking that mirror’s repair
symbol of my longlost soul
or your clear remembrance
(no matter the foreknown pain, i
struggle to recapture
that searing moment
that our meeting was
but as i struggle
to collect those fragments
somehow they cut free, and i bleed
These are both ‘studies’ in the sense that they are exercises of a kind–experiments might I suppose might be a better word–in styles and in one mixing of an experimental style I basically abandoned with my ‘normal’ style. If there is a distinctive difference in much of my poetry and writing and general it probably results from the usage of more than one viewpoint or perspective.
*This in particular is a purely conceptual poem, the image created by a shattered mirror’s reflections (and the attempt to suggest that the apparent distortion may lend a kind of truth that may not be entirely specious). [There is also an echo of
‘sun on bright water
by a pebble’
which was my landmark poem in that it represented a definitive step into my own style without any hint of apology. Since I deliberately employed Grecian mythology in the poem to the extent that it is meaningless without its knowledge, it was a fairly brazen act. I lived with and amongst Christian Reformed people–Calvinists, who abhorred idolatry. But then my book report for the class for baptism was on Ship of Fools… I couldn’t resist and no one called me on it. In retrospect I still can’t believe it. I’ll leave it to the reader to find out which particular book I mean, with the hint that popular literature was just beginning.
stripped trees reflected in water;
i turn away, quickly, fearing Apollo’s wrath.
I’d imagine the legend should be identifiable. Watch it, you might be turned into a deer!
you scratched me–meaning
to tear me–and left,
never realizing pain
has its own language, and
you’d told me you hurt
than i ever could
New: this is the territory of; if you thought about it you probably wouldn’t ask out of decency, and would you really want to know?
*Poetry published in blogs like mine are in fact automatically protected by Common Law Copyright. All I ask for in poetry is that if it’s reprinted–reblogged, one would assume–there is proper attribution. Glenn Charles, although Voices (originally with no caps) was written with the intended pen name of Samwise Davies. **This is a clue, since I think my comments which somehow come from that appear while I’m publishing under Glenn Charles. Since–to add to the confusion–although Glenn Charles is my rational name it’s also in respects an assumed name, I’ve taken latterly to simply using that. Samwise is in respects quite literally the “ghost in the machine”.
I would say “Happy Thanksgiving” but first I wish to say: remember what this celebrates. I wish you enjoyment of what it should be, but I think all who are not AmerIndian should pause very, very long before celebration of togetherness. The actual event cannot be undone nor forgiven; less can the dismissal of the fact that there began the conscious slaughter of the Indians. I read the facts as a child and was a bit shocked. I was a child in Vietnam, too, by the way. xxxx happens.