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Michael
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Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666
California

0 posted 2002-01-24 05:25 AM


POETIC GRAVEYARD


I went reading the other day
Through the wreckage of my past;
An indelible black inlay
Of shadows there amassed.
Forever etched in memory,
I'd wrought, for each, a stone;
And each, in turn, a stone for me
To carry on, alone.

Like torn pages of one man's creed
Forever framed in life,
I once had pride, knew dream, felt need;
Even, once, held a wife.
A poetic graveyard unveiled
Unto these eyes, grown black;
Reminding me what trust entailed -
All in life I now lack.

There, fighting indifference, I delved
Each personal archive;
With ev'ry writing I'd once shelved
Seemingly, now, alive.
The fallacies of Truth rendered
By Fate, or polished hand;
I cringed at what these words incurred,
But still met their demand.

I read, I bled, till my own voice
Within me came to scream.
I read on, still, having no choice,
With naught left to redeem.
I read until the morning sun
Should have proclaimed the dawn;
But Time fell to Oblivion,
And so I just read on...


From stone to stone, from face to face,
The ghosts now taking form.
Before my eyes, those lifelong lies
Calling me to reform
Now stood, as if in mockery,
To place my pen on trial...
Where, by the very heart in me,
I gave into denial.

The testimonial decree;
"But one could yield such word."
There, ev'ry eye looked unto me,
And ev'ry tongue concurred.
The penchant of passion but shame,
I stood to claim the lot.
Then, as if dismissing the claim,
Arrogantly forgot.

All penalties well understood,
No countenance for sin.
I gave the vow in my own blood
To never write again;
I lay the stones down, one by one,
Misery in refrain,
To undo what can't be undone
And plead penance for pain...

...That none may again see my love
As improbable cause,
Or feral admonition of
Otherwise sterile laws.
...That ev'ry image there, long dead,
May never, now, be shown
The ink and blood and dreams, well fed,
Now and forever, prone.


Michael R. Anderson

1/23/02


But dreams of those who dream as I,
Aspiringly, are damned and die.


EAP


[This message has been edited by Michael (01-24-2002 05:35 AM).]

© Copyright 2002 Michael Anderson - All Rights Reserved
EagleOne
Member Elite
since 2000-03-07
Posts 2829
Between a laugh and a tear...
1 posted 2002-01-24 06:04 AM


As usual, I stand back in awe, excellent!

It's okay to shoot the moon ~ John Sebastian

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

2 posted 2002-01-24 06:08 AM


Michael...this is wonderful and however melancholy it might be, I can't help but smile. I used to have bonfires of notebooks until I started posting here at Passions. I also paint, and now I burn paintings! (What izzit with this self-destruction/self-loathing thing?) And I don't worry too much about you not writing again, as I don't believe you could ever NOT WRITE. Your style is strictly you, and what a nice surprise to find you here, once again in the wee hours of the morn!
Kit McCallum
Administrator
Member Laureate
since 2000-04-30
Posts 14774
Ontario, Canada
3 posted 2002-01-24 06:34 AM


"Now stood, as if in mockery,
To place my pen on trial...
Where, by the very heart in me,
I gave into denial."

Such a very powerful write Michael. It's amazing how we can travel through the past and revisit both the good and the bad times through our writings. Like Serenity, I have been known to burn a few memories myself ... from photos to writings to artwork. We grow through all experiences though, even those we wish not to remember. Thank you for taking me down this path, and giving me a good ponder this morning. I so very much enjoy your work.

Best wishes,
/Kit

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
4 posted 2002-01-24 06:38 AM



Ah Michael..what we leave behind, by word, OR deed...

a very, Very good write!

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

5 posted 2002-01-24 07:27 AM


indeed, and I understand this so very well.
An excellent write, Michael.

Kathleen--(Kay)
A true friend does not love you for who you are, but in spite of who you are." -- Caroline Tran

Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554

6 posted 2002-01-24 07:58 AM


I went reading the other day
Through the wreckage of my past;
An indelible black inlay
Of shadows there amassed.
Forever etched in memory,
I'd wrought, for each, a stone;
And each, in turn, a stone for me
To carry on, alone.

Like torn pages of one man's creed
Forever framed in life,

I once had pride, knew dream, felt need;
Even, once, held a wife.
A poetic graveyard unveiled
Unto these eyes, grown black;
Reminding me what trust entailed -
All in life I now lack.
===================================
The fallacies of Truth rendered
By Fate, or polished hand;
I cringed at what these words incurred,
But still met their demand.

I read, I bled, till my own voice
Within me came to scream.
I read on, still, having no choice,
With naught left to redeem.
========================================
From stone to stone, from face to face,
The ghosts now taking form.
Before my eyes, those lifelong lies
Calling me to reform
Now stood, as if in mockery,
To place my pen on trial...
Where, by the very heart in me,
I gave into denial.

=================================
All penalties well understood,
No countenance for sin.
I gave the vow in my own blood
To never write again;
I lay the stones down, one by one,
Misery in refrain,

To undo what can't be undone
And plead penance for pain...
==================================
...That ev'ry image there, long dead,
May never, now, be shown
The ink and blood and dreams, well fed,
Now and forever, prone.
====================================

Only you could write this poem.
While I firmly believe poets who write at your calibur are born with the gift, like painters, artists, and musicians whose hands create magic that others cant, I also believe that there are some, who out of a need to express, to purge, take that God given gift to a higher level. You prove my point...your gift of rhyme and cadence is a natural as the rain. You have a gift to pen your emotions at a depth and level few ever allow themselves to go. Your poetry is not read, it is felt, and few poets words have consistantly touched me as yours have.
I understand what your speaking of here, the reflections seen in reading back, and while the archives of your writing may be painfilled and hard to read, there was no way you could have NOT written, you wrote out of need. The pain and loss had to have an outlet, you took the process of purge and release to a higher plane, and made it your own. I for one, among many, am grateful to  have been able to witness your gifts...and to learn from you. You made me want to be a better writer, and you showed me that we can rise above the past and the pain. You never gave up. In every verse of loss or pain, there was always a light burning in the dark. You will always be a poet, you may not always need to write, but poetry is inside you.
Forgive me this M, I know the depth of your humility as well, but once again your words touch places deep. Thank you for the things you've shared and taught. Your words are archived on my soul.
jm

[This message has been edited by Janet Marie (01-24-2002 07:59 AM).]

Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666
California
7 posted 2002-01-24 08:15 AM


Thank you all for the kind replies.

Karen, you're probably right, I doubt I could ever really set then pen down on a permanent basis - but God how I wish I could sometimes... especially at 3:00 in the morn on seemingly endless nights like these.  Glad to give you a little suprise.   Always good to see you as well.

Kit, Indeed, we do grow through all our experiences, it's the growth in a negative direction, i.e. the emotional scarring and burial of self, I guess I fear the most, and in my own way loathe.  I guess I'm looking for a way to get beyond that and, perhaps, hoping to remove the lingering reminders of my past so I can.  Enjoy your work so much as well.

Janet, I believe your first paragraph of reply is what every poet must dream of hearing in response to their work.  To not be read - but to be felt is what I strive for in most everything I write.  You are right about the "need" in me as well.  You know me as well as anyone on the board and have witnessed first hand some of the scarring I mentioned in my reply to Kit.  While the archives may have been created out of that need, I seriously ponder the need to look back.

Michael

Mistletoe Angel
Deputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Empyrean
since 2000-12-17
Posts 32816
Portland, Oregon
8 posted 2002-01-24 08:50 AM




(big hugggsssssss) Oh Michael, this is so sad but beautiful, sweet friend, I too have often returned to my past, but almost everything I've ever been through is sacrifices and melancholy, and so I try not to dwell upon it, though there's so much I pity and grieve in my time and struggle for love ever so much! (sigh) We all love you so much, sweet friend, never change who you are for you are surrounded by many that love you always now! (big hugggsssssss) God Bless You! You have such a beautiful heart, sweet Michael, thank you for sharing!



May love and light always shine upon you!

Love,
Noah Eaton

[This message has been edited by Mistletoe Angel (01-24-2002 08:50 AM).]

The Jackal
Member
since 1999-08-13
Posts 426
Springfield, Massachusetts U.S.A
9 posted 2002-01-24 03:19 PM


very deep and emotional,i too struggle to find my own voice,great work

no longer afraid of the dark
       or mid day shadows  
nothing so ridiculously
     teenage and desperate

Parker
Member Elite
since 2000-01-06
Posts 3129
ON
10 posted 2002-01-24 03:57 PM


This seemed like a journey into ones self and past. A journey we have to take nomatter the cost. Like all your writings Michael, you carry us with utter concentration.

Parker

Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049
California
11 posted 2002-01-24 04:21 PM


Michael--You are a gifted poet!
Skyfyre
Senior Member
since 1999-08-15
Posts 1906
Sitting in Michael's Lap
12 posted 2002-01-24 04:51 PM


So THIS is what you were up to all last night ... *wink*

It is ... well, it is beautiful, and beautifully sad, and heart-rending ... and very, very much you.

It is gratifying to read you again, my dear.

~Linda

Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666
California
13 posted 2002-01-24 05:38 PM


Thank you all so much for the replies.

Noah, the Jackal - this has been HUGE struggle, indeed.

Parker, I suppose you are right about "having to take the journey sometime" but, my oh my, it's dark down there.  

Linda, Who me?   Love ya, Sweets, thanx for reading.  


Michael

[This message has been edited by Michael (01-24-2002 05:41 PM).]

Corinne
Member Ascendant
since 1999-10-28
Posts 5167
state of confusion
14 posted 2002-01-24 06:30 PM


Michael,

Being haunted from the ghosts of our pasts is a frightening experience. I manage to let those damn ghosts get the best of me without ever lifting a pen, the mind finds ways. Mine come in flashbacks triggered by sensory induced memories.

I guess my only advice (aside from: don't ever stop writing) - which I am not always good at following - to live in the present, to count blessings, to open one's self up to new love and whatever life serves up.

As always, I enjoy reading your work.

corinne

[This message has been edited by Corinne (01-25-2002 03:59 PM).]

Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley
15 posted 2002-01-24 07:25 PM


Were you up reading 'old blue' again?

I remember thinking, as I read your poem for the first time on the old MiningCo site that you have a rare gift. You've never failed to live up to my original perception of you. This is a shining example. And if you ever even THINK of giving up your pen, I'm going to come over there and have it surgically implanted..you'll have 4 fingers, a thumb and a pen on one hand!

Midnitesun
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Empyrean
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647
Gaia
16 posted 2002-01-24 08:06 PM


"I read, I bled, till my own voice
Within me came to scream.
I read on, still, having no choice,
With naught left to redeem.
I read until the morning sun
Should have proclaimed the dawn;
But Time fell to Oblivion,
And so I just read on..."
You have the most wonderful word flow, the rhyme and rhythm never feel forced or contrived. And the depth of inner soul searching is heartwrenching, and on a rare level of intensity. Please keep your pen close to your heart, as close as you hold your child.



Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113
Canada eh.
17 posted 2002-01-24 08:44 PM


Michael, what a gift you have to be able to reach deep down inside and pull out what you are feeling in words which can be expressed so others can understand....and feel.  Yes, I felt this as well...as I read it.  Excellent!
~Hugs, Nancy~

~Time has cast a spell on you,
  So you won't ever forget me~

wayoutwalt
Member Elite
since 1999-06-22
Posts 4870
TEXAS (it's all big)
18 posted 2002-01-24 08:45 PM


Michael you're a good artist
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