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Open Poetry #14
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Interloper
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Member Rara Avis
since 2000-11-06
Posts 8369
Deep in the heart

0 posted 2001-06-18 01:38 PM



Once upon a time
there was an aspiring poet
who sang songs of love.
One morning he awoke in a passionate land,
sunshine welcoming him.
This was a wonderful place
full of poets sharing their songs.
Songs of love found,
songs of love lost,
and songs of everlasting love.
Songs of sorrow
sometimes floated in the air,
to be answered with hope,
support, and always with compassion.
Aspiring poet traveled this land and met
sea who, like sunshine, was a goddess.
They, in turn, introduced him to the
great lumberjack, Sven, whose songs
captured the imagination.
There were women of mystery,
Gaelic roses, goddesses with green eyes,
even slick ladies and humorous salters.
He met an informal BMW
who bobbed  up ever so often,
sharing remembrances of prior paths walked
in more terrible times.
There was even an extra terrestrial singer of songs
and a captain of sorts who taught aspiring poet
the telling of tales.
There were song singers with charisma,
others that sang way out songs,
and still others sang with futuristic tiers.
Then, one dreary day, a trapper/scout
told aspiring poet that his songs were anathema.
It seems the gods of song sent the chief
balladic singer of songs to silence his voice.
He said the rabbits and squirrels were offended
and the ones not offended needed to be protected
from aspiring poet’s songs of love.
No longer able to sing his songs, aspiring poet
curled up in the shade and withered away.
Yet his spirit floats in the ether, listening to songs
from unfettered thoughts and those who could see more cabins
in the land of tindal where resides the minister of poems
and all the others whose songs fill the air.
His voice stilled … his mind forever thoughtful
as his spirit awaits a reawakening.

Fool, said my Muse to me, look in thy heart and write. Philip Sidney (1554-1586) Loving in Truth


© Copyright 2001 The Tall Texan aka Doctor Love - All Rights Reserved
SEA
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Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 2000-01-18
Posts 22676
with you
1 posted 2001-06-18 01:49 PM


how can I help you
to awaken your spirit.....
and heal your hurt heart?

~*~

please, let me help you
your songs of love so inspire
you can't let them fade

~*~

dear Interloper
your words are magic to me
don't take them away

~*~

SEA

Cpat Hair
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793

2 posted 2001-06-18 02:00 PM


The worst silence
is one imposed
by anothers

If your words top, who or what else will be silenced simply because your words were not heard?

A very nice tale....but it concerns me the message is one of giving up something that is important..if to no one but the poet


Whose words now dance
To the rhythm of passing days
And jump in syncopated rhyme
within this mind of haze

Whose words now run
In abandoned fields of time
And walk among the ruins
Of memories sublime.

Whose words now sleep
In beds of passion made
And caress the tender places
That none of us would trade

Whose words now linger
In the essence of who I am
And permeate the core
Of every lonely man

Your words….
Your words….
Your words….



serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738

3 posted 2001-06-18 02:20 PM


Hey now..once upon a time I felt this way too...in fact I think I feel this way about once a month (hmmm....just a coincidence?   ) But truly I think everyone has to come to the decision to write or not--me? I just keep my head down and keep on typing. I've long ago given up the need to be understood by EVERYBODY. It just can't be done. Smiles to you, Interloper. I've enjoyed your work and hope to read many more from you!!!
1slick_lady
Member Ascendant
since 2000-12-22
Posts 6088
standing on a shadow's lace
4 posted 2001-06-18 03:09 PM


go on singing songs
he who holds our melody
you sing such sweet songs

"...the rest is silence" (Hamlet)       Shakespeare


RMW
Senior Member
since 2001-03-21
Posts 1424

5 posted 2001-06-18 03:30 PM


Interloper....what Cpat. Hair said...plus...."...Fix Bayonets!...." (BMW...smiling). Bob
Mabel A. Dilley
Senior Member
since 2001-03-17
Posts 859
Seattle, WA, USA
6 posted 2001-06-18 05:22 PM


This I read with sadness. It is like the old story: they came for the Jews and I kept silent; they came for the Blacks and no words escaped my lips; then they came for me and there were no others. Hmmm! Someone or collective someone should not have this power. For all of are but peasant wordsmiths. Pen on!!

"I am not now that which I have been."

ethome
Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858
New Brunswick Canada
7 posted 2001-06-18 05:32 PM


Intensely deep write...I have to say....Write on my friend!!

The role of poetry is to utter the un-utterable; to open up
spaces of consciousness and resistance; to language oppressions; to
re-language historie

Sven
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Member Laureate
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937
East Lansing, MI USA
8 posted 2001-06-18 06:51 PM


look inside. . . find that flame. . .

I know this feeling. . .

well done. . .

-----------------------------------------------------------

To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world.

Irish Rose
Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263

9 posted 2001-06-18 08:55 PM


It's getting so a poet isn't safe anywhere!!!!    

"This rose has seen red, I have been blue
I'm going to Ireland in 2002!" Kathleen.

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
10 posted 2001-06-18 09:30 PM


But all poets and their readers are certainly most safe...here....
Marge Tindal
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Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores
11 posted 2001-06-18 10:20 PM


InterLoper~
In the 'Land Of Tindal' you are WELCOME ANYTIME
the muses move you my way.

They don't call this place 'Passions' for nothing ! !

Once upon a time, there were INSPIRING poets across the globe who met opposition to their work ...
most of those poets are now considered the 'Masters'
AND with a stroke of justice - most of the 'offended' ...
curled up and died on the vine of JEALOUSY.

The progression of history did away with the guillotine ?  

I do not intend to wait to have my Obit speak my words !

Age your words in the vat of wisdom -
and awaken in Vintage-pouring of your thoughts across this poetically passionate land.

My prayer this night ...
Lord, protect me from the rabid rabbits and the squirrelly squirrels.

Sweet little *Hugs* sent your way, poet.
~*MargeOfTheManyCabins*~

~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~
                               noles1@totcon.com             

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