Through the misted sacrifice of our societal veils
we witness the things that really matter . . .
The old woman who hangs
cloth diapers out in the frozen air of December,
the purification of lovers
bless-ed in the divine rapture of their loins
and the children and the birds
who harmonize in a courtyard of long ago
where trembling leaves applaud in gratification
with the assistance of the wind.
Ah . . . and many other things float by
the once restricted frame of our eyes.
Natural condiments,
all green and delighting in the sacred sap of existence,
rise up like scented escorts
and guide us to verdant hospices
where we rest without reminders
of nation state propaganda
or the fatigued crucifix of religiosity.
A band of wandering gypsies,
with violin faces,
float down from the perpendicular harvest
of a mythological forest,
sing and dance without fear,
disregarding the racial penthouse
that once held them captive.
And over in the far corner of a bride sheeted pasture
a virginal sun smiles,
fills up the warm gourd of her breast
and nourishes the withering raspberries
of the human heart.
Oh we need not succumb to the wild bramble
of history’s miscreant misdemeanour
for we have a conch shell deep within our ears
and the sound of fountains
that whisper peaceful soliloquies
that can be deciphered
if we listen intently.
The golden colour of pollen and windblown finches
decorate our vision with shades
of Nirvanic intervention
and consecrated is the laughter of he or she
who dresses in the non tattered cloth
of infancy.
The geneologist who bears the secret sanctification
of an ancient astronomer’s insight
stands in the mist
with his arms outstretched . . .
Oh take his hand and understand
that we are all of one tribe,
just a little confused,
that’s all.
Thus, we must plough the fields of our dreams,
navigate the stars that reside behind our eyes,
step forward out of all this darkness
and feel the embrace
of the caressing limbs in a vineyard
that has not been touched by the plasma of warriors
or dead minded charlatans.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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Beautiful, a fine tapestry of life, rich and rewarding read. A pleasure to feel the optimism here, and the sense that all's well with the world, even if at some remove.
. Rewarded 4
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Thank you muchly . . . I'm happy that you felt the optimism Pania . . .
Marc
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excellent
The old woman who hangs
cloth diapers out in the frozen air of December,
the purification of lovers
bless-ed in the divine rapture of their loins
and the children and the birds
who harmonize in a courtyard of long ago
where trembling leaves applaud in gratification
with the assistance of the wind.
Ah . . . and many other things float by
the once restricted frame of our eyes.
Natural condiments,
all green and delighting in the sacred sap of existence,
rise up like scented escorts
and guide us to verdant hospices
where we rest without reminders
of nation state propaganda
or the fatigued crucifix of religiosity
superb..above lines..I was hooked the moment i sank into the firstw ords.well done.Thanks for sharing.Pls visit my poetry and offer some comments. -
Beyond my comprehension
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Rich in awareness ,,,
experience, ancient memories; rich in imagery and in the wondrous phrasings of mortality and of timelessness, finely balanced and woven into a tapestry of life and of love. Sentiments universal and also personal.
Well done, Poet.
And thank you.
Love
Myra
. Rewarded 6
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C
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Wow. You are absolutely incredible and gifted at writing. You did an amazing job with the word choice, the flow, and overall poetic emotion.
Write on.
~*~SP~*~ -
"Thus, we must plough the fields of our dreams,
navigate the stars that reside behind our eyes"
Such dignity, wonder & magificence you have graced us all with in regards to this
remarkable piece, Marc. Supreme imagery, form & content, Sweetie
You're right, Scribe; I did enjoy this one, immensely. But then, all of yours inspire me.
Thank you for your persistent fire, my Friend.
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Thank you Swan . . . I sat down this afternoon with a purpose in my pen (which is unusual for me) . . . I normally just scribble down whatever images pop into my head and see where it leads me . . . But today, I felt like trying to write something with a more positive purpose, thus, I wasn't sure if I could pull it off, so to speak . . . So ya, it's gratifying to know that even though it still seems to contain a small amount of fire, I was hopefully able to communicate a more gentler approach to the overall scheme of things . . .
love ya sis,
Marc
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Superb plus
Wow, quite the write, my friend. You've expressed yourself quite well, as usual. I felt that I could relate to the thoughts you expressed. Again, well done. -
Thinking hummmm
I don't know what to say except this was a poem so full of images and meaning it will take me a while to grasp the whole I am going to have to re-read this in smaller bits and put it together like a puzzel so I get the full picture of this poem, From what I got of it so far it speaks to the heart and soul.
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