Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Poet Song


Deep down inside of me
forces are rising up,
but like the waves 
high and sighing in the distance,
always they must surrender to the strand.

I laugh at my creations through a veil of tears
and feel in my beginning that I have yet to begin -
each time my thinking dives away,
stays with itself, alone -
as vowed to silence.

Inside me poems lie on undiscovered shores
waiting for my silent landfall
waiting for my crossing of those inner oceans
filled with shoals and sirens' calls
for I am heavy with more than I give birth to,
my heart knows songs that I will never sing.

I am music of which I do not know the chords,
I am a pause repeatedly disturbing itself.
I am more than I am.
I cannot release myself.
A paradise lost lies inside me.

Poet, do you keep on weighing sounds,
intangible as mirrors without smile or line?
Contemplate no more,
be warrior instead.
Rise up and stop this singing,
for the Spirit needs the silent ones.
Would She not otherwise have led the song?







Painting: The wanderer above the sea of fog by Caspar David Friedrich


4 comments:

  1. ik denk mij leeg
    en tracht een glimp
    van wat ik zie
    te melden
    aan mezelf.

    mijn oog herinnert zich
    de echo,
    angstig,
    om het tijdeloos moment
    te onderwerpen aan een maatstaf,

    een vorm is zo broos.

    Charles

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  2. I feel the promise of what is yet to take form about to be born. The formless silence. I very much enjoyed the contrasting images of forces pulling in different directions. Rising up, yet surrendering... singing and silence. There are some images that particularly made an impact for me such as "I am music of which I do not know the chords, I am a pause repeatedly disturbing itself. I am more than I am.." and "Contemplate no more, Be a warrior instead."

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  3. So strongly I feel that this is a poem of reconciliation with, of acceptance of, all those things that are never realised - those 'songs that we never sing'. Truly, so much of what we hope and wish for in life remains inevitably unfulfilled. The art of life is to accept that, to be reconciled in that unfulfillment, rather than surrender to regret at what cannot be. This beautiful poem articulates that so expressively.

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  4. Dear Hawkwood, I am most grateful for your insights here. You seem to understand the core of the intangible urge to live life to the full and create accordingly, of "acceptance of, all those things that are never realised - those 'songs that we never sing'. The art of life is to accept that."

    Dear Joseph, I am most grateful to your insights here as well, you sense and understand the depths of weighing the contrasting images and that it is precisely there where 'the promise lies of what is yet to take form about to be born'.

    And Charles rose up immediately by allowing the warrior in him to manifest what was more than ready to be born.

    Thank you all so much for your heartfelt and inspirational responses.

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