You are so much more than a: You are so much more than a shadow, but I love how you took me there to that feeling... a non-productive toil ineptitude of managing the showdows they only live as longs as their lighted backs, and at least one thing is sure another shadow for another day to chase the demons of torment and useless toils away... and thanks to the night the leveller where each shadow meets end to end before they are swallowed whole but always to rise again I could read this over several times and interpret it differently each time but the beauty and the poignancy of the notion is something special and well worded man.
I really, REALLY!. like this: I really, REALLY!. like this poem. The voice speaking seems rather casual and conversational. yet the tone becomes eerie from the first few words. Is that word "pinned," in the first line, just a phrase, or to be taken literally? And what kind of watchman---a security guard, or a horrified witness to some strange goings-on? The person being addressed, who is pinned to a board to watch some sort of process, is watching as the nomenclature of pain changes, but the watcher is now not able to move a mouse (the computer device, or the roden?---the ambiguity increases the poem's effect). The fianl stanza shows us violet acquiring hands (mutations?), voices dimmed (is sound now perceived as light?), and the sky is darkening. Who or what the two small eyes belong to is left unstated, but, in reading this, I become sure that the eyes in the final line are not those of the watchman in the first and second lines.
I beiieve this poem is a brilliant demonstration of the ability to compress so much activity, and an implied sense of eerieness, in the fewest words and lines possible. A huge backstory is also implied; but not disclosed at all.
I applaud your accomplishment in this poem. It is one of the finest of its kind---a poem about mysteriously eerie occurences---that I have read in a long time.
I find tribute to Mumble. I: I find tribute to Mumble. I happen to believe that our beloved pets will be with us in Heaven. We know Jesus has a horse there; and what He has for Himself He shares with His people.
You're right: there is no: You're right: there is no higher compliment and I cannot begin to express my humble, heartfelt gratitude. Your entire analysis was a prose poem of the highest order, and I cherish every word, dear Bard of Wisdom and Spirit of Light.
Since you first showed up to: Since you first showed up to comment on my poems, I couldn't separate the Poet from the name. Of course, you're always free to change your name as you please, but to many of us, you're always Starward and always a star. My heartfelt prayers and best wishes.
And I couldn't see you as: And I couldn't see you as anyone else! Glad you had this epiphany but wven gladder you'll be ok! May you be better than ok! I am praying as if you've already recieved it! Fasting and prayer and absolute deliverance! On to more glorious anothologocal cleansing, chronicaling (yea made up word but I know you get me) reflecting and evolving and most importantly healing and saving. Bless you
Hugss
Thank you for your comment. : Thank you for your comment. And yes, I agree. But what began as somewhat disturbing information---the potential danger toward which I was drifting was turned, by God, to a teachable moment right after I left the doctor's office. And this is a significant time of the year for me---the season when, in 1976, my friendship with Cerulean, solidified and began to draw me out from under the shadows of my parents and my (then) circumstances. And then, the same July in which we celebrated the nation's two hundredth anniversary became the first month of my independence from what had been a very mundane and repressed existence.
Please forgive my verbosity, and thank you very much for commenting.
Just gorgeous the collective: Just gorgeous! the collective 'we' the extension of life and creation... boredom.... is so underrated as an inspiration... the all spark exploring itself in countless ways for countless aeons and still, nothing prepares for the glorious lines so simple yet profoundly beautiful -
"every stalk of marsh grass
and every pearl of rain
and every maple, twisted
into a visual song, is the
same Love creating
and loving Itself."
An incredible exploration of beauty, metaphors and the great question what we are doing here...
And then In the soft insanity of awe,
in music heard with the eyes,
in the universe that shifts with
one slow step of the crane...
I so get this its a vernacular vein running through my poetry the soft insanity of awe... just brilliant I wish I wrote it! There really is no higher compliment. I loved this comparison of endles moments in even a crane going about its days all of it relevant like a butterfly flapping its wings a ripple that grows in the creation of creation. Just gorgeous. Expertly done, drops of brilliance in a profoundly beautiful rendition of the meaning of life and its exploration. Bravo.
Gratitude no matter how small: Gratitude no matter how small is such a powerful thing and such a powerless thing if there is none! Succinct but message recoeved! Noice!
Just when I began to wonder: Just when I began to wonder this post kept my mind from wandering. Sometimes things become quite clear during a health scare and such.
You have been putting up a: You have been putting up a tremendous fight, any lesser gumptioned person would just wither away. That to me is a true inspiration as we live in ever increasingly trying times. At times it feels like 'they were the worst of times and they were getting worser still....' kind of feel. Dickens would turn in his grave several times over.
Thanks Starward. This image: Thanks Starward. This image is an actual one from the Betelguese flare in the 90s I think it was. For the unaware it has been posted as a visual to accompany the poem to round the experience, or at least in the hope to give more for those that may require it. I suppose the more metaphorical a text a visual anchor may aid in the reading or it also could very well backfire in the hands of the highly imaginative.
I am so sorry for missing the: I am so sorry for missing the Belteguese poem, and I have just visited it and commented. I am sorry I am not keeping up well with reading; please forgive me. However, your Poems that I have read continue to remind me that you are one of PostPoems' great ones, and I am very grateful for the reading experiences you give us, and I applaud your literary achievement.