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Open Poetry #26
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icebox
Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383
in the shadows

0 posted 2003-06-07 02:39 AM



I walk in dreams amidst debris
on littered landscape and stare
at points of sharp remembrance,
barely skirting cracks in time,
steaming crevasses filled with catalysts
of unyielding truth, in a world
where nothing mortal holds its form,
where the sacred and profane
have lost their contrast in the shadows
of a time fragmented mind.

Remembering, I dream about forgetting
the pains and joys of other lives,
commitments lost, debts unpaid, work undone,
triumphs and passions
abandoned in little scenes of dying;
in strident theme and repetition,
poignant tone and hasty rhyme,
the broken melodies of life unsung ring out
across the playing fields of self-determination,
easy pieces squandered in the killing fields of time.

Reality is the mind's softest convenience,
life's greatest indulgence to the soul,
a curtain hiding doors chipped in ego's bracing wall;
to lift the edge and see beyond one lifetime
sends me sliding on a line
of pointed subtleties, unending comic tragedies
distilled to mediocrity with minor variations
carved in faceted reflections,
curving far across the mirrored plains of thought.

Sipping at reality, the soul waits
watching seldom interfering
in the sad sleepy searching,
sweet forgetfulness, halting steps,
the naive sweeping gestures of the mind awash in life,
until images startling as deceptions dancing on a gem
cast within reach a moment's possibility of unexpected truth:

drifting fog and leather,
the anger flash of cold blue eyes,
across the hills and through the early mists of northern skies
war pipes wailing like the Ba'ansidhe,
weapons hurled with names of gods we lost to history,
we died driving invaders to the sea;

late night smoke,
roasting meats and wine,
through the streets and in the fleshpots
of sultry free-boot towns set in other centuries
with great expectations and little thought
we wallowed in debauchery then fought for entertainment;

lightning,
freezing rains and flags with ravaged ends,
on the great plains,
the mountain passes,
all the ancient seas,
washed in blood of friends and strangers
we raged, fell,
beneath spavined standards raised for causes long forgotten;

salty wood and canvas,
steel ringing on steel,
from the Hebrides to Hispaniola
and on the pliant sands along the Gulf
we walked free men as brothers,
younger souls entranced
by rhum and powdre, wooden ships and wind.

Denying pain,
leaving logic to the patient and the frightened,
aging swiftly, living proudly, dying young
we ranged through time
wild sentient animals undaunted by our crimes,
greed and lust, passions unleashed
beneath the light of stars we used as maps,
shedding lives like costumes,
actors in a rush to know the play,
until today, in these strange centuries of sweaty peace
churning underneath a casual coverlet of constant war,
weapons lost and rusting beyond the veil of time
we live apart,
like shriven buccaneers,
anchors set in drifting webs,
the tangled undergrowth of separate lives,
sometimes sharing bits of memories
surviving at the edge of touch,
fortunate to live again and recognize each other as a friend.

©2003 by icebox

© Copyright 2003 icebox - All Rights Reserved
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
1 posted 2003-06-07 02:46 AM


you tell quite an incredible story, many favorite lines, one awesome journey!
icebox
Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383
in the shadows
2 posted 2003-06-07 02:50 AM


passing shadows ~ Quite a compliment from an aesome Lady.  Thank you for reading this poem and for your kind comment.
Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-20
Posts 21191
Cape Cod Massachusetts USA
3 posted 2003-06-07 07:39 AM


I'm so glad that I opened this poem, icebox - I've read it twice already, and I expect I'll come back for another.  Any poem that can garner more than a couple of reads from me is surely a resounding success.  Very nicely done, sir...
Patricia
Member Elite
since 2003-04-06
Posts 2160
Missouri
4 posted 2003-06-07 08:21 AM


Mr. Icebox,

I think I shall chew on this one today and try to absorb the meat in smaller pieces.  There are many exceptional lines.  

My friend, the words are flowing endlessly from you.  As Martha says, "It's a good thing."  Perhaps without her assisting in your projects, you are free to write?  LOL


Patricia

Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049
California
5 posted 2003-06-07 09:57 AM


icebox...Amazing!  Thank you for sharing this.
icebox
Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383
in the shadows
6 posted 2003-06-08 12:36 PM


Nan ~ Thank you for reading my poem and for your generous comment.

Patricia ~ *smile* Ahh...roasted, skewered poetry!  I hope there was no indigestion. *laugh*
Yes, some days, writing seems easy and others...well, I am sure all here know.  Thank you for reading my poem and for taking time to comment.

Martie ~ Does this help at all, my friend?  Thank you for reading my poem and for your kind comment.

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