True North

[qimissung]

the fires of war lit up the dark horizon
and jesters, without a smile, beat out a battle song
and raving men roamed streets, begging for a coin with which
to slake their unquenchable thirst
but money could not buy happiness, or peace, or anything at all to staunch
the sadness and despair that ran, rampant as a hoard of rats
within the shell of what once had been
golden stars marked not the skies of night
but death and rank insanity
the voices of the rabble ascend the hill and stake their claim
nobility, the artisan, all men of thought and knowledge, fled,
and lost their footing on the cusp of noisome, mephitic death
the cancer proliferated, uncontrollably
and the little foxes eyes gazed, dispassionately, on the leavings of the feast
but deep within the squalor grew a compass rose
the day that it was found the madness died
and with the carnage thus dispelled, that which was human was reborn,
who, moonstruck, created love, and so decreed our fate
that all men born would clutch it to their breast,
that brave majestic lonely fertile feast

[blazeofglory]

Deep, telling and penetrating!!!

[qimissung]

Thank You, blazeofglory.

[PrinceMyshkin]

How on earth did I miss this until just now? It's magnificent, the way thunder and lightning are magnificent - and, at times, terrifying!

So many powerful images and unrestrained language, I wondered if it would get out of control, but it never did.

This deserves many more readings, and I will bump it to the head of the list from time to time.

[qimissung]

Well. thank you, Prince. Your kind words actually made my jaw drop. Thank you for saying they are powerful images. When I write I just keep hoping not to be trite or cliched-of course I'm hoping and intending to be powerful! Your feedback is much appreciated.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Well. thank you, Prince. Your kind words actually made my jaw drop. Thank you for saying they are powerful images. When I write I just keep hoping not to be trite or cliched-of course I'm hoping and intending to be powerful! Your feedback is much appreciated.

I suppose that in relation to one's poems (and practically everything one does) there are two polar types: 1) who doubts the value of anything she writes (or does) and 2) the sort who is the president of her own most enthusiastic fan club.

If those were the only choices available to you (BUT THEY'RE NOT) I'm pretty sure I know which you would choose!

You are a better writer (and probably an even better person) than you believe you are.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Ahem... I presume to bump this because I believe it deserves more views and hopefully more responses.

[firefangled]

Qimissung, this is so many things: apocalyptic, and triumphant of course, and the language so true to those ends. The last line I kept reading over and over just to hear it.

Bravo!

[~Sophia~]

but deep within the squalor grew a compass rose
the day that it was found the madness died
and with the carnage thus dispelled, that which was human was reborn,
who, moonstruck, created love, and so decreed our fate
that all men born would clutch it to their breast,
that brave majestic lonely fertile feast

quim... when I got to this part is was like Christmas morning. Peace on Earth, goodwill toward man. What a beautiful feast it is.

[kiz_paws]

the fires of war lit up the dark horizon
and jesters, without a smile, beat out a battle song
and raving men roamed streets, begging for a coin with which
to slake their unquenchable thirst
but money could not buy happiness, or peace, or anything at all to staunch
the sadness and despair that ran, rampant as a hoard of rats
within the shell of what once had been
golden stars marked not the skies of night
but death and rank insanity
the voices of the rabble ascend the hill and stake their claim
nobility, the artisan, all men of thought and knowledge, fled,
and lost their footing on the cusp of noisome, mephitic death
the cancer proliferated, uncontrollably
and the little foxes eyes gazed, dispassionately, on the leavings of the feast
but deep within the squalor grew a compass rose
the day that it was found the madness died
and with the carnage thus dispelled, that which was human was reborn,
who, moonstruck, created love, and so decreed our fate
that all men born would clutch it to their breast,
that brave majestic lonely fertile feastI wholeheartedly agree with PrinceM in saying that your powerful poem deserves many more reads. I enjoyed it very much, thank-you! :)

[qimissung]

Thank you firefangled, ~Sophia~ and kiz_paws. Those are some wonderful adjectives and metaphors you used to describe my humble effort. I think of something alakungfu once said to me when she finished a poem "That's what I meant to say." That is how I feel about this, and I am very moved that it meant something to you, too.