You sit in a world
of framed, glazed words
crazed by age and patinas passed
down through dust
to the livid surfaces encrusted,
windows, once filled in
by the coloured eye
of living minds
worlds blown and howling,
heaving or bent in quiet civility
buildings, old and threadbare
flag draped, darkly disposed
in forgotten corners, of older worlds
where meadows moan, paddocks slow swaying
with Autumn grass, turning cold
into the folds of mountains
winds up there, rend trunks raw
bare and twisted
gnarled by the old, barking and hacking
in their slab huts cold, crudely daubed
Denizens of these worlds, watch from a chair
in the quieted still of a spinning universe
watch as men, ships, and mountain springs
dulled cows, and vanished horses, gone
and look on this gallery of windows,
wherever they are
longing for past or present,
near or far,
while over there, a window on
a white sailed sea serene
disappears over the horizon
and dips to a land never seen.
.
Comments
Thanks Sagittarius...
And correct, it was a draft - and I totally missed that at the beginning - although, i do like the cyclical felling, I will think of something - it was jotted down in a library, where there was a small gallery, and a number of paintings - have to go will keep at it.
Thanks.
Chris.
Hi Chris
What can I say.... nothing less than I expected when I hit onto the link....
I have missed reading you.
Perhaps your writes will inspire me to one....
Loved
with Autumn grass, turning cold
into the folds of mountains
and
All these worlds from a chair
in the quieted still of a spinning universe
Just imo - you know I can't help myself * smiley face *
I think that you should cull the end...
'find this gallery of windows,
wherever your are
past or present,
near or far.'
is a little simple compared to the rest of the write....
I reckon it really finishes at
'disappears over the horizon
to a land never seen'
and maybe move
'All these worlds from a chair
in the quieted still of a spinning universe'
to the end....
Knew I'd enjoy myself here .... lol
Thanks Chris
Love judy
xxx
Hey Jude, lovely to hear you back too..
And - as a rule, the voice of reason, yes, I think you're on the money, the end is a little over-stretched pathos, as I say, jotted in a library, bolted together - needs work. have to go, past my bedtime, but will revisit and write again after adjusting (sometime) :)
Take care,
Chris.
Hmm, now I've read both comments..
I'm not sure any more! I have to get to bed, but i will revisit, maybe you two can become acquainted and duke it out, I'll sleep on it!
Thanks for re-visiting, will be reading you soon.
Take care,
Chris.
Thanks for suggestions...
I took the point of Jude, and moved the end into the context of the observers in the second part of the poem (where i hop the subtle shift is seen) and made the lines applicable to them, although I took our points and hopefully made the ultimate impact of the end a little more pleasing without affecting the overall flow. I read it out loud a few times, and quite like it, I made a few inflections here and there to balance a couple of the lines better, hopefully this hits the right note..
Cheers,
Chris.
cha cha changes..
'for their living surfaces encrusted..
once windows filled
by colored eye, the hues
attracted livid minds.'...
'worlds blown, howled
heaved..sheaved
Or,
Leaning. Oh quiet serenity!!!'
just my small changes..
we had Rod Sterling and
then HILARIOUS HOUSE OF
FRANKENSTIEN...
my fave Vincent Price whom
Billy Van comic genius Loved
..
'sentients threadbare old. disposed
flag draped!'
shakespeare....what a frontman
bemoaning to the crowd of the mosh
pit and super wealth private boxes
the uber joker ribbing the concience
and concierge
(i the underling would wait with rotten
tomatoes...held on baited words while
torch light flickered!!)
etc.......your frame is sterling
of works..the detailing fine
marx led...trotsky led
in modern cast hawkings muses
as did Twain..the ponderances
of words
think..whom shall rally they when
the flag falls
the sweetness shortened
before the climb above the wall
ceasar...plato..
joan of arc
the rush across the concourse
of majestic jester chance
Napolean
when the british
landed their ship against
the stronghold of enemy
half the topside crew dead
the remaining captians words
were..
'well here we are..four minutes late'
McSorelys last words...he captianed
the Fritz..fitzgerald of superiors fame
in mega storm..sinking....lagging..
doomed...anderson asked him
how he was doing.
last words were from him..
'holding my own'
not.
oh my god.im going down..
for the love of pete....
or
'those f****g wankers...I should
have took early retirement..
I will give them such a slap
when I get back to f****g port'
no man..they knew..
grace in the face of the great
unknown...
the Fitz went down..torn in half
the motor section turned upside
down of the stern...the bow kept
rightside....completely demolished
I Remember the conversation
in my day...no survivors..like ocean
ranger....
'holding my own'
man......that was class..
Anderson turned..came back
but..fitz was gone....
no way ...i had oppurtunity to work
little fish ship from Britt Ontario
but seriously...I fear water..
its a spirit...
but i like the lakers..and surfers..
and canoers...
I shall stay on shore thank U very
much...
still..awesome poem
I write but my writing does not
come anywhere near the aspirations
of you works.
so thank U
MR wolf!
Very strong poem!
I'm on the road, will enjoy spending more time and comment , but first read is a wow.