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Passions in Poetry

Casting Shadows

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Skyfyre
Senior Member
since 08-15-99
Posts 1966
Sitting in Michael's Lap


0 posted 01-13-2000 09:01 PM       View Profile for Skyfyre   Email Skyfyre   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for Skyfyre

Fate weaves her web for each of us the same,
Without regard for fortune, or for name;
And we are made distinct by what we feel:
What never touched the heart was never real.
Each miniscule detail, each tiny part
Of what we do, contributes to the art
That is our soul – the thing that will remain
When we are gone.   In shades of joy and pain,
We stain the cloth of life: our hues will stay
Long after Time has swept us on our way
To take our place as figures of the past.
We linger in the shadows that we cast.

A face in crowds, a player in a cast
Of millions -- yet we hope there will remain
A glimmer, should one care to wonder past
The picture as a whole.  Our deepest pain
Is smaller than a grain of sand; the way
Of History is, only giants stay
Bold in the fore.  But, tangled in the art,
Invisible, but vital all the same,
There stands for every man, unique, a part
As singular as is his very name.
Each drop of paint helps make the painting real,
However insubstantial it may feel.

Each waking hour, each dream, each time we feel
That all has gone for naught, that sorrow's art
Has made its dismal portrait all too real,
We must believe that all have felt the same.
Yea, even those who bear a noted name
Have felt the weight of sadness; for their part,
However, it was not allowed to stay.
When cold despair would lend its ashen cast
Or drape its ragged curtain in our way,
Undaunted and aloof we must remain:
For round the bloodied whipping-post of pain,
There grow exquisite blooms of trials past.

We bear the scars, the echoes of a past
That make us wonder why we choose to stay;
Persistent, proud, we smile despite the pain.
We struggle to maintain control, or cast
The world aside, ‘til only we remain;
And ever at our side, along the way
The shadow walks -- mute witness to the part
We choose to play.  It colors how we feel,
This silent shade, though not a man can name
It, save in dreams.  ‘Tis such a subtle art
This watcher works; no two vignettes the same --
And yet, each masterpiece is doubtless real.

An artist's rabid fancy, rendered real --
Unruly and untamed in every part --
This canvas that is Life.  Never the same
From dawn to dusk: no map of how to feel,
Or guide to clarify this cryptic art.
Our baffled tongues, so desperate to name
What brooks no designation, wind their way
In stuttered circles.  Time meanders past,
But stubborn in our silence, we remain
To peer at it in puzzlement.  We stay
Entranced by its allure  -- no glance is cast
That strays from this hypnotic pallette's pain.

The obvious conclusion: life is pain;
And yet we strive to find a kinder way
To frame our fascination -- brighter cast
To splash upon the gray.  The time is past
When, with a careless heart, we'd gladly stay
And wonder if we might achieve the same
As those who scrawled that image with their name
In scarlet infamy.  Are they more real
Than we whose colors blend to shade their art?
Is then our humble place, our smaller part
Unnecessary afterthought?  We feel
That it is so, yet faithful we remain

To this ungrateful entity -- remain
Unswerving allies to familiar pain.
To save our legacy, we vow to stay
And try to leave our mark along the way;
That we may not be lost to unsung past
Obscured by anonymity's blank cast
As thousands went before.  They're all the same;
Those faceless men who died without a name.
Forgotten souls, who chose instead to feel
And live as free, ignoring what was real
And never striving to secure their part
Or win a place in Time's expansive art.

With sound and fury charged, with careful art
We strive to shape our eulogies the same
As those whose brushes played the larger part.
Unresting force, a need we cannot name
Compels us -- as we age, it seems more real
When Death's pernicious fingers we can feel
About our throats.  A desperate shadow cast
That as we fade away, it might remain
To whisper quiet secrets of the past --
Of guileless joy, of all-consuming pain --
To lead the next aspiring artist's way
That in his heart, some shred of us might stay.

No act of man, nor fervent prayer, will stay
The hand of Time; our mortal die is cast
At birth, and barely wavers on the way.
Imperfect born, imperfect we remain:
The wages of our sin are paid in pain,
A currency assigned in distant past.
In feeble words, we capture what we feel
Or paint our passion's dream as optic art.
If only in the seeming, they are real
To us, though other eyes may see the same
Depiction, giving it a different name --
The painting, not the picture, is the part

That leaves the footprint in the sand.  A part
Of us may want those looking on to feel
As once we did, to understand the name --
The spirit and the flavor of the art --
They gaze upon.  Perhaps to taste the same
Exuberance that made our fancies real
To us, the relics of a cherished past.
Infused in ink, alive in paint, we stay;
As years and respite strip us of the pain
And wrap our souls in warm contentment's cast.
Though dust returns to dust, these sparks remain
To cast a ghostly light on shrouded way.

A vision on the page -- the only way
To make your mark upon the future past;
When only memories of you remain,
Your work ensures that those, at least, will stay
Emblazoned on their minds, in reverent cast.
As certain as the wound begets the pain,
The art reveals it's maker -- makes him real;
More real than when he lived -- the deathless part
Is larger than the man.  The sense of "same"
Continues undiminished -- they can feel
The shadows of themselves within your art;
For but a moment, they will wear your name.

No matter where, the place you sign your name,
When you are gone, will be the single real
Reflection of your soul. The only art
Left of its kind; a proud and priceless part
Of you, of who you are, of what you feel.
Your gift to lonely pilgrims who remain
Behind, perhaps to live the very pain
You felt so long ago.  Along their way,
Your legacy may lend a gentler cast
To their despair.  An ally from the past,
A shadow by their side, you'll always stay.
When Death has made the artists all the same,

Who reads your name becomes the pressing part:
For pain dissolves into forgotten past,
No longer real.  When naught remains to feel,
The way of grief has never been to stay.
When Kronos' art unmakes us, each the same,
The shadow cast is all that shall remain.



 You cannot choose the way of your death, but the path you choose will determine its own end.





[This message has been edited by Skyfyre (edited 01-13-2000).]
© Copyright 2000 Linda Anderson - All Rights Reserved
Rus Bowden
Member
since 01-13-2000
Posts 141


1 posted 01-13-2000 10:02 PM       View Profile for Rus Bowden   Email Rus Bowden   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Rus Bowden

Hi Skyfyre,

Such an ambitious poem with many great moments and such a remarkable muse to turn to verse.  The idea of a painting left behind.  You've taken such great care to write a thoughtful and penetrating poem.

Persistent, proud, we smile despite the pain.
We struggle to maintain control, or cast
The world aside, ‘til only we remain;
And ever at our side, along the way
The shadow walks -- mute witness to the part
We choose to play.  


Rus
Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 05-20-99
Posts 24426
Cape Cod Massachusetts USA


2 posted 01-13-2000 10:07 PM       View Profile for Nan   Email Nan   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nan's Home Page   View IP for Nan

Ya know, Kess.... Ron was teasing me one day and called me a masochist for doing some of the structured poetry that I enjoy so much.... That was nothing in comparison to a Double Sestina...

Folks - this type of poem has been deemed by our fellow poet, jbouder, to be restricted to the clinically insane... I'm not sure if Kess was, but she probably is after doing such a good job on this one...

A double sestina is twelve stanzas, each with twelve lines - following a specific recurrent but alternating rhyme scheme (using the same 12 end rhymes in each).... followed by a sestet using all of the same 12 end rhymes - two per line, in a specified order....

Oh - She also developed a great theme, and wrote the poem in iambic pentameter (not mandatory).....

Whatcha think???
Skyfyre
Senior Member
since 08-15-99
Posts 1966
Sitting in Michael's Lap


3 posted 01-13-2000 11:16 PM       View Profile for Skyfyre   Email Skyfyre   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Skyfyre

Hehehe -- insane?  Ah well, I suppose I have been called worse.  I'll not argue the point -- I doubt it would do me any good anyway.  

OK, here's the secret: what I love about these things is that they write themselves, in essence -- you already have an "outline," of sorts, once you choose your end-words, and all you have to do is fill in the blanks.  Simple stuff.  

Um -- hey Nan?  If you're a masochist, what does that make me?  

--Kess (the merry lunatic)


 You cannot choose the way of your death, but the path you choose will determine its own end.

jbouder
Member Elite
since 09-18-99
Posts 2641
Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash


4 posted 01-14-2000 02:39 PM       View Profile for jbouder   Email jbouder   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for jbouder

Nan:

Nobody knows who "jbouder is in here", Nan, but thanks for the plug.    It may not take clinical insanity to attempt one of these (as I've suggested in the past) but I can tell you it takes remarkable talent.  I don't have time to read it now, Kess, but I promise, I will be back.

 Jim

"If I rest, I rust." - Martin Luther

Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 08-22-99
Posts 23002


5 posted 01-14-2000 03:08 PM       View Profile for Denise   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Denise

Whew! This is remarkable, Kess! I am speechless and stand in awe of your talent!
Unbelieveable!! BRAVO  

And I do so much love your iambic pentameter!

 Denise

And slight is the sting of his trouble
Whose winnings are less than his worth;
For he who is honest is noble,
Whatever his fortunes or birth.~~~Alice Cary, ~Nobility~


Terrina Kethryveris
Member
since 12-06-1999
Posts 57
USA


6 posted 01-14-2000 03:11 PM       View Profile for Terrina Kethryveris   Email Terrina Kethryveris   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Terrina Kethryveris

Very lovely but you really have to stop writing these, they are so long. LOL

Like the references made to us all being the same.

Terri


 Truth be known, fantasy is much more appealing than reality.
Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 08-02-99
Posts 9130
Purgatorial Incarceration


7 posted 01-15-2000 03:57 AM       View Profile for Christopher   Email Christopher   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Christopher

Kess- Ever amazing and challenging at the same time. Quite an intriguing combonation. Beautifully wrought and melded together!
Munda
Member Elite
since 10-08-1999
Posts 3629
The Hague, The Netherlands


8 posted 01-15-2000 09:30 AM       View Profile for Munda   Email Munda   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Munda's Home Page   View IP for Munda

Kess, I can not say it any better than Christopher just did ! Outstanding ! : )
JennyLee
Senior Member
since 09-01-99
Posts 1478
Northwestern, NJ.


9 posted 01-15-2000 09:41 AM       View Profile for JennyLee   Email JennyLee   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for JennyLee

Hey Merry Lunatic...I was swept away with this one! Jenny clapping profusely and with vigor

Jenny


 Words bloom like flowers that seem astonished at being born.

L. Pirandello
16th Century Dramatist

whiskey
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Senior Member
since 12-28-1999
Posts 1302
Australia


10 posted 01-15-2000 10:31 AM       View Profile for whiskey   Email whiskey   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit whiskey's Home Page   View IP for whiskey

This is amazing , So good , I really enjoyed it  
Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 05-20-99
Posts 24426
Cape Cod Massachusetts USA


11 posted 01-15-2000 11:16 AM       View Profile for Nan   Email Nan   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nan's Home Page   View IP for Nan

Merry Lunatic - That certainly works...
Skyfyre
Senior Member
since 08-15-99
Posts 1966
Sitting in Michael's Lap


12 posted 01-15-2000 11:08 PM       View Profile for Skyfyre   Email Skyfyre   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Skyfyre

Rus:  Thank you for taking such care to read into what is undeniably an unusually long poem.  Given what I've seen of your talent, I hold your opinion in high regard.

Jim:  You'd better be back -- 'twas your insanity that framed this sick fascination of mine!  LOL

Denise:  Your awe is a compliment of the highest order.  Thank you so much.

Terri:  your talent for stating the obvious never ceases to amaze me my friend.  I shall endeavor to write you some shorter verse to make up for it -- perhaps some haiku?  LOL

Christopher:  Thank you my friend, but were you referring to my poem or myself?  LOL

Munda:  Thank you for your patience in reading and your reply.  

Jenny:  So long as it did not lull you to sleep, I am happy.     (Taking a bow at your clapping) LOL

whiskey:  Thank you!  

Nan:  yes, it has worked for me for years ... LOL  



 You cannot choose the way of your death, but the path you choose will determine its own end.

Not A Poet
Member Elite
since 11-03-1999
Posts 4427
Oklahoma, USA


13 posted 01-25-2000 11:58 AM       View Profile for Not A Poet   Email Not A Poet   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Not A Poet's Home Page   View IP for Not A Poet

Kess,

I'm so sorry and embarrassed   Way back when you first posted this I said I would get back to it. Well, blame it on a failing memory ~blushes~ but I completely forgot. Fortunately my wife asked whatever happened to that other double sestina, sparking my memory like magic. Well, I looked it up, printed it for her and read it, finally.

I believe you have fully tamed the monster (a term I believe Jim applied to it when he first suggested the thing). This is just incredible. I am absolutely astonished that you can maintain such color while staying with the subject for 150 lines, not to mention your perfect meter.

Extreme congratulations for an outstanding poem my lady and please accept my sincere appology for being so late.  

Anyway, this deserved to be brought back up another time for those who might have missed it the first time around.



 Pete

What terms shall I find sufficiently simple in their sublimity --
sufficiently sublime in their simplicity --
for the mere enunciation of my theme?
Edgar Allan Poe


Munda
Member Elite
since 10-08-1999
Posts 3629
The Hague, The Netherlands


14 posted 03-22-2002 06:43 PM       View Profile for Munda   Email Munda   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Munda's Home Page   View IP for Munda

Thank you Pete for bringing this back to my attention. It left me in awe the first time and you know what? It stil does!

Geesh Linda, how your poetry is missed on these blue pages!
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 08-26-99
Posts 46297
displaced


15 posted 04-18-2004 10:37 PM       View Profile for passing shadows   Email passing shadows   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for passing shadows

I ws about to click back in the middle of this, not realizing how long it was...but worth the stay to read through
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