snatches of thoughts...

[Bar22do]

snatches of thoughts, while travelling, not necessarily connected



And if the world were an act of divine despair,
abiding dark blue ink thrown over a void of space -
which thus became universe, with stars for only hope,
and our words an endeavour, clumsy but improving
to take over the Word, God forsaken?
___



I train my eyes to focus on the void,
intensely and at length,
to recover, perhaps, through His,
Nothingness, out of oblivion.
___



When I bend over my future
it is not to know how it will turn out
but what will remain
of a love, a word, a rupture
that overjoyed or harmed my life.
___



How do Pacific salmon distinguish,
at the river mouth, mixed in sea waters
fresh drops that guide them, like signposts
back to their native streams where
they spawn and die, by consent?

(this bit was my spontaneous reaction to PrinceMyshkin's "We Die by Consent")
___



« This is not a bird», wrote Magritte
on a work of his fine artistry.
If I wrote on a cemetery wall:
« Paradise is here »,
what mystery might this phrase evoke?


(grateful, as usual, for your comments!:wave:)

[PrinceMyshkin]

In the end, who cares, whether these are closely connected or not? They are to me clearly enough connected by the spirit of humility and wondering that informs them all. Sometimes one (I) would rather have a very tentative thought than the most tidily constructed "answer."

There are lines that especially stood out for me:


[SIZE="2"][COLOR="Navy"]
snatches of thoughts, while travelling, not necessarily connected


and our words an endeavour, clumsy but improving
to take over the Word, God forsaken?




I train my eyes to focus on the void,
intensely and at length,
to recover, perhaps, through His,
Nothingness, out of oblivion.


but what will remain
of a love, a word, a rupture
that overjoyed or harmed my life.

the alternatives above are, finally, all the wondering we can do.



How do Pacific salmon distinguish,
at the river mouth, mixed in sea waters
fresh drops that guide them, like signposts
back to their native streams where
they spawn and die, by consent?[/I]

I've seen an earlier version of this but appreciate it here all the more.

Thank you for all of these.

[Bar22do]

In the end, who cares, whether these are closely connected or not? They are to me clearly enough connected by the spirit of humility and wondering that informs them all. Sometimes one (I) would rather have a very tentative thought than the most tidily constructed "answer."

There are lines that especially stood out for me:







the alternatives above are, finally, all the wondering we can do.



I've seen an earlier version of this but appreciate it here all the more.

Thank you for all of these.

Thank you Prince for your attention and comments. And I owe you an apology, too, for yes, the piece on "Salmon" was directly inspired by your own very good poem "We Die By Consent". I meant, but forgot to mention that - but now this is repaired! (pls see in the thread)

[~Sophia~]

« This is not a bird», wrote Magritte
on a work of his fine artistry.
If I wrote on a cemetery wall:
« Paradise is here »,
what mystery might this phrase evoke?


That just sent chills up my spine. Do I know you Bar?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thank you Prince for your attention and comments. And I owe you an apology, too, for yes, the piece on "Salmon" was directly inspired by your own very good poem "We Die By Consent". I meant, but forgot to mention that - but now this is repaired! (pls see in the thread)

Of course I recognized the echo or quote but was flattered rather than disturbed.

[firefangled]

When I bend over my future
it is not to know how it will turn out
but what will remain
of a love, a word, a rupture
that overjoyed or harmed my life.
___

« This is not a bird», wrote Magritte
on a work of his fine artistry.
If I wrote on a cemetery wall:
« Paradise is here »,
what mystery might this phrase evoke?



I liked all of these, Bar, but these two especially. The first because it seems to acknowledge the inevitability of loss in life and the hope that at least there will remain something (love) to balance loss so we can go on. The second for the last two provocative lines. Where is here and where is the cemetary wall?

[paperleaves]

I love the first two, there is something so elegant and mysterious about them, but I can't put my finger on it....hm...perhaps you were channeling some beautiful, ethereal spirit, or maybe that spirit is you!


love
Kate

[Bar22do]

I liked all of these, Bar, but these two especially. The first because it seems to acknowledge the inevitability of loss in life and the hope that at least there will remain something (love) to balance loss so we can go on. The second for the last two provocative lines. Where is here and where is the cemetary wall?

You are, as always, generous with others, as you are stern with yourself... where I believe the contrary would be in place!
There, in a way, reflects in here, but about the reflections we can only ask...
Thank you, Fire.


I love the first two, there is something so elegant and mysterious about them, but I can't put my finger on it....hm...perhaps you were channeling some beautiful, ethereal spirit, or maybe that spirit is you!


love
Kate

How can I feel more grateful for so much benevolent perceptions... your voice is one of a superb lyrebird... Thank you Kate!

[hack]

Bar,
It is beautiful.
The last stanza is very strong.
Thank you for your poems.
Hack

[Bar22do]

Bar,
It is beautiful.
The last stanza is very strong.
Thank you for your poems.
Hack

Shining grains of your desert sands, Hack, often form necklaces which on our poems' necks add to their beauty... thank you so.

[Amylian]

A theological lesson or so it seems...lol

[hack]

Shining grains of your desert sands, Hack, often form necklaces which on our poems' necks add to their beauty... thank you so.


Bar,
For a reason unknown to me
I am reminded of an Aztec poem:

My flowers will not come to an end
my songs will not come to an end,
I, the singer, raise them up:
they are scattered, they are bestowed

this is attributed to Nezahualcoyotl

[Bar22do]

Bar,
For a reason unknown to me
I am reminded of an Aztec poem:

My flowers will not come to an end
my songs will not come to an end,
I, the singer, raise them up:
they are scattered, they are bestowed

this is attributed to Nezahualcoyotl

.... to Nezahualcoyotl my thanks sentence reminded you of an Aztec poem! this is too much not to blush!

[MorpheusSandman]

I like the concept of combining "pieces" (that are very much pieces instead of elaborately connected works) that have no intentional connection because I think connections inevitably form if only aesthetically. I quite liked them all but especially the last one. Great job as usual, Bar.

[Bar22do]

three more snatches...



Defeated, weary, Hope licks her wounds
Withdrawn and aching in last recess of life.
Her foster sister Death loiters nearby
Quietly waiting for Hope’s white flag.

---

I am glued to words that I know
while what I most wish to say
fears the most to betray
silence and innocence.

---

And if my name
had no other reality
than the brief moment of writing,
under its shadow.

[cogs]

prince, this is a quote worth saving:
"Sometimes one (I) would rather have a very tentative thought than the most tidily constructed "answer."
bar, i must focus on this snippet:


"« This is not a bird», wrote Magritte
on a work of his fine artistry.
If I wrote on a cemetery wall:
« Paradise is here »,
what mystery might this phrase evoke?
families might be comforted for their deceased, and perhaps have loving memories that bring them paradise.

[~Sophia~]

three more snatches...



Defeated, weary, Hope licks her wounds
Withdrawn and aching in last recess of life.
Her foster sister Death loiters nearby
Quietly waiting for Hope’s white flag.

---

I am glued to words that I know
while what I most wish to say
fears the most to betray
silence and innocence.

---

And if my name
had no other reality
than the brief moment of writing,
under its shadow.



I love all 3 of these snippets Bar but - my favorite of these is the first one. I hope "Hope" never surrenders her flag! Very powerful!!!

[Bar22do]

Sophia: I too hope Hope will never give up! I am happy you loved the Hope "snatch", thank you.

cogs:
"« This is not a bird», wrote Magritte
on a work of his fine artistry.
If I wrote on a cemetery wall:
« Paradise is here »,
what mystery might this phrase evoke?"

"families might be comforted for their deceased, and perhaps have loving memories that bring them paradise."

You are certainly right, even though I was more asking here of the unknown paths of the deceased, not of those who lost them...
Thanks a lot for your comment.

[PrinceMyshkin]

three more snatches...



Defeated, weary, Hope licks her wounds
Withdrawn and aching in last recess of life.
Her foster sister Death loiters nearby
Quietly waiting for Hope’s white flag.

---

I am glued to words that I know
while what I most wish to say
fears the most to betray
silence and innocence.

---

And if my name
had no other reality
than the brief moment of writing,
under its shadow.




Oddly, I missed these because they were posted under the original thread. I admire them all, the second one most of all, for the boldness of its reticence, but I'm a little puzzled by the third: "And if..." what? It would be a complete, poignant thought for me without the initial "what if," in which case it would strike me as being worthy of Emily Dickinson.

[Bar22do]

Oddly, I missed these because they were posted under the original thread. I admire them all, the second one most of all, for the boldness of its reticence, but I'm a little puzzled by the third: "And if..." what? It would be a complete, poignant thought for me without the initial "what if," in which case it would strike me as being worthy of Emily Dickinson.

You almost make me regret my "And if", though it made visible an abyss before me... as for Emily Dickinson, I will always kneel before her.... thanks for your reflection!

[firefangled]

three more snatches...



Defeated, weary, Hope licks her wounds
Withdrawn and aching in last recess of life.
Her foster sister Death loiters nearby
Quietly waiting for Hope’s white flag.

---

I am glued to words that I know
while what I most wish to say
fears the most to betray
silence and innocence.

---

And if my name
had no other reality
than the brief moment of writing,
under its shadow.



Please do not regret your "And if." My favorite is the last. It is a most humble and dedicated statement. "And if..." struck me as though I suddenly became aware of your thoughts in medias res. It gave a mystery to the rest, wondering what came before.

Mark Strand made a book of these called The Sargentville Notebook.

[Bar22do]

thank you Fire, "what if" is often a vertigo I hurl myself down with, whirling...

[PrinceMyshkin]

You almost make me regret my "And if", though it made visible an abyss before me...

However, I cede to Firefangled's appreciation of it. Between my anxiety over it and his savouring it, one might see one of the measures of the differences in his and my mind-sets.

[Bar22do]

However, I cede to Firefangled's appreciation of it. Between my anxiety over it and his savouring it, one might see one of the measures of the differences in his and my mind-sets.

my mind-set being (relatively) flexible, I receive both suggestions with gratitude, each opening different dimensions...:)

[qimissung]

I love the simplicity of these lines, as though they were said by one of those wise people that you seem to find only in movies, a monk or a priest or some holy wandering pilgrim who quietly murmurs them almost to himself and you can almost hear it, almost understand it.

The last one that starts, This is not a bird, wrote Magritte...is my favorite.

[Bar22do]

I love the simplicity of these lines, as though they were said by one of those wise people that you seem to find only in movies, a monk or a priest or some holy wandering pilgrim who quietly murmurs them almost to himself and you can almost hear it, almost understand it.

The last one that starts, This is not a bird, wrote Magritte...is my favorite.

Oh, qimm, I neglected to thank you for so long. Please forgive me. I lost track of this thread amid so many beautiful others. I wish I were up to the simplicity you are speaking about... but am very grateful for your appreciation. Bar

[PrinceMyshkin]

I wish I were up to the simplicity you are speaking about...

That is a sage observation (whether you are up to it or not). I remember writing a very simple poem once that pleased me until I thought But some readers might think this could have been written by a grade 5 student. And then I consoled myself with the thought of how many poems I had already written to be able to write one as simple as that...

http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=794489#post794489