Merciful-- the only kind adjective
ever ascribed darkness; it awards us
the privilege of aeons-old stars: the chance
to wink out of existence, with as little
movement as it would take to turn over
in our blankets, colored ash by moonlight.
Tabula-rasa moon, merciful eye,
watching this, our pilot lights burning low;
merciful blankness, our falling-star minds
relieved to be unable to observe
anything but our own plummeting speed.
This is the little death craved in our cores,
all doors to the universe flung open.
This is fusion, the hanged man dangling
on unseen twine. And solitude being
the stars’ other luxury; light-years span
the distance even between twins. Novas,
giants, stragglers, reds-- suspended, alone,
alphabet in one hand, revelation
in the other, scattered, but never lost.
A sun-dial at midnight still keeps time,
and this is how we breathe, in ellipses.
Unconsciousness, gather stems. Then we wake
to rasas re-filled fuller than a field
of sunflowers, this yellow eclipse
come again to spirit intuition away
in its pod-colored solar boat.
Author notes
A foray into some semblance of formal structure. I've been reading a lot of Shakespeare lately.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Sorry, It's My Problem
I have a hard time reading poetry written as a paragraph. That being said, I think you had a lot to say I'm just not getting it because I'm totally stumped by the form. Sorry, I know it's my problem, it's me.Bluebirdlanguage: 5, rhythm: 2, subject: 4, tone: 5, form: 3.
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Thanks for trying.
Pie
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I do adore this, I truly do. But I feel I am too far from its meaning; that I don't understand enough.
I want to give you feedback that will help you and possibly make you feel even better about your day and what not, but I believe I'm missing something.
I know that this is asking a lot, but I want to understand. If you could, I'd appreciate talking about this one, through personal messages or what not.
I will say one thing that I'm certain about, though.
Your mind is full and I want to know more of it.
Kristin -
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Hi Kristin. Thank you very much for the sweet comment on "Blank Verse," and I apologize for how long it took me to reply. I think the structure of this piece intimidates people a bit-- blank verse tends to make for very dense lines. I am noticing also that people are trying to read more into this than I intended. It's a poem about sleep-- it's that simple. How sleep is the great reward at the end of the day; tabula rasa is Latin for "blank slate," so the idea is that sleep wipes the day away, refreshes us, even if it's only temporary, so we can come back in the morning to face our plates, re-filled again.
The reference to the hanged man is the image in the Tarot deck, as well as to Odin, who was suspended from a tree to receive a revelation. Sleep is like that-- we suspend ourselves each night, and dreams connect us in a mystical way to the universe, teaching us things we didn't know.
I hope that helps. I appreciate your honesty in saying you didn't understand.
Thanks again,
Pie
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Love this@!!
I really like this poem, yes, it is a bit long, but I like the subject and I like the words you've used. bravo! I haven't read this kind of a poem for a whilelanguage: 5, rhythm: 3, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 4.
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Thanks, XX. I don't usually write structured pieces, so I'm glad you enjoyed.
Pie
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good
Lots of good stuff going on in this piece. A bit too long for the subject I think. Some redundancy, but very entertaing and put me in a calm, peaceful mood.
Good imagery.
I'm glad I stopped by to read.
Richlanguage: 5, rhythm: 4, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Hi, G2A. I appreciate you taking the time to read and leave comments on two pieces of mine back-to-back. This poem is written in blank verse, the format of Shakespeare and Marlow-- so any repetition was deliberate, both for the sake of rhythm as well as to underscore certain points.
I usually avoid structure, but I wanted a challenge. Throw in the fact that I've been reading Shakespeare, and I suppose my subconscious sort of ingested the cadences. But it seems to have been a failed experiment. I guess that's why structure in general has gone so hideously out of style-- it eclipses the subject of the piece, and not many people really enjoy reading it. Ah, well.
As for the length, I do not consider 20-some lines a long piece, and, as I generally prefer free-verse, I don't worry about restricting length. Consider that most of the greatest poets all write famously long pieces-- Whitman, Eliot, Pound, etc. Don't get me wrong, I like short pieces, too. But the piece itself dictates the length.
Again, thanks so much for reading. I read a couple of yours and I look forward to returning the favor.
Cheers,
Pie
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Celestial SkyPilot Rides Her Broomstick Thru Our Minds Again!
Please excuse this first-impressions comment, CP, I´ll append to it if needs be!
Unseen twine indeed is the red thread clasping the compatible components of this great piece together in a wordy weave which encompasses, as Dave mentioned, macro and microcosms binding ourt all-too human souls to the SpiritWorld.
As above so below is a great hermetic motto reflecting Egyptian esoterica in their attempts to mirror and balance with Maat and the "Far-beyond".
I think you´ve pretty much encapsulated this in your work here though the abundance of imagery might be more effectively enhanced with a more disciplined adherence to fewer elements (yeah, I know, look who´s bloody talking!) but then, richness of symbolism means everyone can take something they like from the banquet provided and one doesn´t need to bond with the meaning to appreciate, though of course in hermetically inclined poetry the rewards for doing so should always be apparent.
Why the title?
Merciful death/fate - the opportunity to start anew with fresh spiritual impetus? A blank slate (Tabula-rasa) as it were?
But cripes, Pie, your verse is far from blank!
Or merciful heaven? Allusion to skywards?
Ah, to feel oneness with our stellar comrades! Now there´s a fine thing.
Each day is a new beginning? Do the stars provide us with such a gift?
For this spiritual-hillbilly it will only occur with the advent of accute Parkinsons!
But tonight, I promise thee the vessel of my dreams shall be most assuredly "pod-colored", dear Pie.
gG-nite
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Hi, Simon. Thanks, as always, for an exhaustive reply, even if it is a first-reaction. I didn't think I had that many disparate elements-- at least, no more than I usually do: stars, sleep, night, moon, sunflowers. I am a little mystified that everyone IS taking so many different approaches to this-- not that I mind. I think the reader's take sometimes is more important than whatever the writer's intention might have originally been. But I think ya'll are making it harder than it is. I was simply making two points with this piece-- sleep is the great reward at the end of the day, and sleep leads to a refreshed and re-awakened connection with the universe. That's all. I wrote it because life has been so hectic, it seems that sleep IS my only reward. Throw in that my migraines are flaring up and then sleep is the ONLY thing there is.
I named it blank verse because that's the structure it's written in-- unrhymed iambic pentameter, "Marlowe's mighty line." Also, the references to tabula rasa-- the blank slate-- sleep and night have been such a mercy because it's the only time that all thought, all worry, has been completely wiped from my mind. I've been reading a lot of Shakespeare lately, and so as the lines came to me, arranging them in iambic pentameter seemed a logical course of action.
No, I don't think each day is a new beginning. I said, "we re-awaken to rasas [slates] re-filled. . ." We pick up right where we left off, in other words. The pause is what keeps us (relatively) sane.
I guess this experiment in style and form failed spectacularly. On the other hand, I guess that's why structure in general has gone so hideously out of style, and why I generally avoid it myself-- it eclipses the subject of the piece, and not many people really enjoy reading it. Ah, well. I just wanted a challenge.
gGratefully,
Lauren
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hey pie
a heanvenly body of work here, that connects the macro and microcosms together as parellel universes and alternative realities. Wasnt it Shakespear that said, as above so below or something?
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Hey Dave-- you grasped the essence of what I was going for here-- we are the stars. We become the stars for a little while every night, because we go to sleep, and we dream, and we don't really know where we go in those subconscious hours.
It's funny you bring up the "as above, so below" thing-- everybody keeps seeing different mystical connections in this piece. But that connection is especially apropos, because I believe the phrase was coined by the Hellenistic Egyptians, and the reference in the last line to the "solar boat" is to the Egyptian concept of death-- the soul departing in the solar boat, the way the sun rises and sets each day. Anyway, I'm enjoying seeing how everyone is getting something different out of this.
Later,
Lauren
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I felt a great structure to this Pie, so I think your work there has definetly payed off
For me I couldnt grasp the subject matter and truly abosrb it but thats only becuase I'm not astrologically minded ...I mishgt have missed some of the finer points..But that also didn't take away from the appreciation of a great rhythm and storng language..creating such a poem in my eyes
Cindy
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Hi, Cindy. Always great to have a comment from you. I appreciate your honesty in saying you didn't understand all of it-- I'm a big chicken. If I don't understand a poem, I usually won't comment on it.
I didn't think about it being astrological, but as John made the connection to the image of angels dancing on the head of a pin, I see now that astrology could definitely be a big part of this, with the stars and the hanged man (Tarot cards) reference.
Thanks again,
Pie
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Poetic core
Hey, Cutie. Welcome back, and warmest congrats to you and Patrick on becoming householders! Great news indeed.
Soon you'll be a settled old lady with knitting and slippers - ha ha! Shakespeare is it now? Well there's posh fer ye! Unless I'd read your notes I wouldn't have considered this all that different from your usual fare, which I mean as a compliment of course. It seems you naturally gravitate toward greatness!
It's far too dense to pick out every fine nuance, may it suffice to say it is absolutely loaded with great imagery and metaphor.But the absolute highlight of it for me was
This is the little death craved in our cores,
all doors to the universe flung open.
This is fusion, the hanged man dangling
on unseen twine.
for here you deepen the mystery that inspired the poem as the fermament became a million angels dancing on the head of a pin. That true poetic core your work so regularly fathoms (It also has a Hopkinesque internal rhyme thrown in.)I don't know if the structured form helps it really but I applaud the discipline and its execution in its own right. However, the poetic thought and insights far outweigh the (considerable) technique.
As always, a very nice write. >W<
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Settled old lady with knitting needles and slippers-- heh, I'm actually very much looking forward to that. Then I get to tell everybody what a hellcat I was back in the olden days.
It's very nice to hear that this isn't that much different from my usual-- it's good to know that I didn't have to shoehorn my thoughts into a format, or that I have developed a distinct enough voice that it doesn't get lost in structure. So cheers for that.
I also love that you connected this to the image of angels dancing on the head of a pin-- I didn't think of it when I wrote this, but it fits so well with what I had in mind. And Hopkins! Now who's talking about fancy! Thank you so much for the wonderful response.
Hugs,
Lauren
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Amazing.
This could be one of the best poems I have read on here so far. I completely love it. The stars have always struck me as extremely poetic in nature, and you have perfectly captured everything I have tried so many times to put into words. Your tone and diction fit perfectly with the theme, and the rhythm of it reminds of of an old classic.
"the chance/to wink out of existence, with as little/movement as it would take to turn over/in our blankets"
This really spoke to me. You expressed this quite well.
If I had to make one suggestion, I would do something with the line "The other luxury/of the stars is solitude". It's not that the message falls flat. It's just that, to me, the way it's worded doesn't quite fit with the flowing, almost trance-like meter of the rest of it. It's like a standalone line in a sea of coherence. But hey, that's just my opinion. It definitely didn't detract from the poem in any way.
Again, amazing job and great read. I'll definitely be reading this again.
-Zig
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Hi, Zig. Thank you so much for reading. You have a very good ear-- I agree, "The other luxury. . ." line was a bit out of rhythm. I have changed it around now-- if you get a chance, you might take a look and see if you like how that flows better.
Yep, the stars are an object of eternal fascination for humanity-- I'm glad to hear I said something that others felt. I'm firmly of the opinion that poetry's power lies in the community of experience. I'm glad I was able to share mine with you.
Cheers,
Pie -
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Much improved. And I agree with you. Putting your poetry on here is so much more meaningful when you can connect with other people through it.
Thanks for the reply. -
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Thank YOU for taking the time to see my changes.
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