Prose Poem: Untitled

I have dreamt the world, the travels and the unique beauties of every corner. I was there amongst the spanish and dutch sailors who saw a new planet bursting and mounting before their eyes like a paradise. The softness of touching a new hue, with stars in a sky of a holy and profounder blue.

I was there when man chose to create this world; and later I was there when we forced sobriety upon ourselves in the name of progress and reason - we awoke amongst a cold and static wasteland, and created blinding and empty lights of zeros and ones, so that we could forget that there ever were stars. I was there when men touched with their searching minds the dust of the dead, the powdered and fleeting gold, floating above the fields of grass and blue skies.

And I am here now, as we stare at the ubiquitous and dark obelisk which conquers the dream with it's immensity, and leaves our hearts no place to shape their paradise. But what need have we to create illusions, when we are content to know: we posses the ambitions of the gods, and yet are the sustenance of the worms.

bumps

It's been a while, Alex, but your writing is as descriptive and sensuous as ever. My one objection is more theoretical than anything, but I think the concept of prose poems is an oxymoron, and that belief is even more firm after reading Furniss and Bath's Reading Poetry where they discuss this very issue. I have no problem calling this poetic prose, as the emphasis on imagery and various internal rhythms and lyrical (rather than narrative or dramatic) expression make it close to major concerns of poets. But, for me, what makes poetry poetry is ultimately form, and all of the other devices are shared between all forms of literature.

But that theoretical quibble out of the way, I still enjoyed reading this. In my absence I did miss the beautiful richness of your work.

I must say, that's pretty damn good, Alex.

Thank you to both of you :)


Morpheus, I long believed as you have that the thing which makes poetry poetry is ultimatly form. As such neither do I believe prose-poems are poetry. But what they both are is poesy. I look at it in terms of prose and poesy, not prose and poetry. The later describes two forms, the former however describes two modes of sentiment. As in prose is de vulgairs, the expoloration of the common the everyday, aspiring to find beauty and reason is what we all share and exepriance for the constant and unending majority of our human life. Poesy aspires to that rare, that few and mintue, rarer than the finest love or friendship or joy, those few exeptional moments of life, which when seldomly experianced are almost like an eiphany itself.

Does that means you'd advocate us having a "Personal Poesy" subforum? :D

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by MorpheusSandman

Does that means you'd advocate us having a "Personal Poesy" subforum? :D

---

hahaha you have identified my secret plan :D

Just gonna give this a final bump

I don't see this as a poem. I itch to read this in a longer form as a travel essay not about the place he travels to but the growth of the traveler in his travel. It's like a musing of a man chain-smoking on a patio one Summer night and thinking where his feet will bring him to next.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by miyako73

I don't see this as a poem. I itch to read this in a longer form as a travel essay not about the place he travels to but the growth of the traveler in his travel. It's like a musing of a man chain-smoking on a patio one Summer night and thinking where his feet will bring him to next.

---

I like that, the image of a man chain-smoking on a patio on a summer night. You read things in an interesting way, but that is good.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Alexander III

[...] we posses the ambitions of the gods, and yet are the sustenance of the worms.

---

"Between the beasts and the gods, we find ourselves unstrung." Someone important said that. I remember a university professor putting it on the board and then going on to discuss Oedipus Rex. Not that the tragedy has anything to do with your piece -- it just reminded me of that quote. If anyone can offer a clue regarding its origin, I would appreciate it.

The piece itself is beautiful, Alexander. One question -- how far can you sustain this kind of writing? Have you ever written a longer piece in this style? If not, why not? If yes, will you share? :)

Best regards,
DH

Alex, your kind of writing-raw, honest, unrestrained-makes me want to stay longer in this forum. Infectious. To me, an effective piece of literature challenges me to write not to read.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by DocHeart

"Between the beasts and the gods, we find ourselves unstrung." Someone important said that. I remember a university professor putting it on the board and then going on to discuss Oedipus Rex. Not that the tragedy has anything to do with your piece -- it just reminded me of that quote. If anyone can offer a clue regarding its origin, I would appreciate it.

The piece itself is beautiful, Alexander. One question -- how far can you sustain this kind of writing? Have you ever written a longer piece in this style? If not, why not? If yes, will you share? :)

Best regards,
DH

---

This is more or less the length for which I can sustain this style, more or less never more than a page. I have a slightly longer piece of similar style called Dust, posted in the general writing section if you would be interested.

I suppose the reason I cannot sustain this style for longer is I believe after a certain amount it becomes to diluted and goes from beautiful to dull. If you know what I mean.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by miyako73

Alex, your kind of writing-raw, honest, unrestrained-makes me want to stay longer in this forum. Infectious. To me, an effective piece of literature challenges me to write not to read.

---

Ahh, now you put me in a position of chagrin

remain nonchalant to formalists' prodding, and you'll be fine. hehehehe

your conclusion may be a developmental phase of man. i saw how small starlights are similar to bits that control screenlight (starlit bits, lol). at first, i took the obelisk to mean the moon, which was confusing. perhaps, since it's ubiquitous, it's an experience of knowledge, or maybe just the known universe?