PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As this poem begins, one: As this poem begins, one reading it for the first time will be inclined to think it is a dismal poem.  The poem begins with a silenced Earth, certainly from a cataclysmic event (although the Poet does not define that event); then she brings in a grayness, a dismal condition so gray the wind becomes a part of the stone.  She tells us that river mists become like dreams of Vesuvius---perhaps one of the most effective metaphors of cataclysm in human history.  Mention of Vesuvius, like mentioning, say, the Titanic, is a metonomy of disaster and cataclysm.  Then she uses a word I consider bone-chilling in the context of this poem . . . "iron-clad."  But then, within the iron-clad condition, she detects a gleaming of hope.  But she does not reject the iron-clad situation, although she describes it further as a soundless opera, a symphonic tomb, and a sacrament of ice (in these concepts, her perspective leans---I think---toward that of Wallace Stevens, especially in his poem, "The Snow Man").  But she finds in these parts the presence of God, and she recognizes that these are also parts of the Cosmos.  The Cosmos contains things we often do not want to consider:  rogue asteroids that can wipe out millions of dinosaurs; neutonr stars that can devour even light, and crush everything in their grasp to something less than the particles within an atom.  These are also parts of the Cosmos, and they correspond to those symphonic tombs.    But, in being able to recognize the existence of these things, we demonstrate our sentience.  A houseplant knows neither neutron stars nor rogue asteroids, and doesn't care because it doesn't know that it doesn't know.  It is in our cognizance of depair, even when seeming iron-clad, that we can find gleamings of hope and joy:  this is a spiritual sentience that, I personally believe, is alone in the created Cosmos.  But it is an awareness, and also can be an appreciation, of sentient existence.  And that is part of the vocation that I have suggested, elsewhere, with which we have been tasked by the Creator:  to explain the Cosmos to itself.  In this poem, as in all of her Cosmis poems, Patricia does this; and by allowing us to hear her explanations, she makes us better than we have been.

Thank you so much for that. : Thank you so much for that.  Tonight is supposed to be the last of a long run of dismal skies (my vicinity has only experienced partly or fully sunny skies three days this month).  The poem came as I listened to the forecaster.  Thanks again for commenting.

A new post by you is a: A new post by you is a special occasion, and this striking display of mastery and plunging emotion is no exception.   From "each tear a note" to "awakens the missing of you" I was spellbound, and I mean that honestly. The way you captured the complexity, the exquisite highs and merciless lows, the dizzying, farcical, beautiful saga of romance, was all too real and convincingly crafted. The title sparkled as well, adding a sardonic and deeply sad note to your astonishing expression.   A work of truth and a work of genius (they are one and the same).   My amazement and respect!   

It's now on YouTube: You can now watch/hear me read this one at:  https://youtube.com/shorts/cxhJF7plKe4

lol, well put. what path to: lol, well put. what path to take, who to follow, and why the hell not lead for once?  guess as long as we all have cable we'll survive. 

Your words ask for guidance,: Your words ask for guidance, and then lead this reader to wander through haunting phrases, adorned by beautiful images, manifesting themselves into the rebirth of faith, understanding, and the acceptance of life itself.  Thank you for sharing your journey.    It's always a pleasure to visit here, thank you for sharing your talent.  

Thanks pjj! Indeed there: Thanks pjj! Indeed there appear to be more unwritten poems than those that see the light. Perhaps writing them out allows them to be shared and even possibly be immortalized!