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The Poet
| Open Poetry #5 |
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The Poet |
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Tony Di Bart Member
since 2000-01-26
Posts 160Toronto, Canada |
What is the poet’s life? Where does the poet hide? Why does the poet see words dance, like birds through rays of ultraviolet? Is it some deviant brain or cell locked in a rose, coloured sheath of a myelin Is he a prophet, or only trying to profit, distill the events others are to busy to see Is he a quack, word weaver with no pattern. Why, how has he arrived at this junction in the road , in the sentence ,between what is, what is mind, and what shall be spoken on a blank white page. Is he a drug smoking fiend or enlightened guru Can he find the truth where he refuses to look and yet sees crystals in the eyes of strangers. Is he a child growing old or a wise man staring through eyes of eternal youth. Is a flower beautiful repulsive red or pure radiant rose? Does it hold the secrets of the universe? Can it not talk to him and only scream to him ? Can he not repeat the vulgar and the sublime wisdom that spews forth from it’s pistil, pedals, thorns, roots, **** sucking tentacles reaching for life for eternity in the soil, the beautiful brown womb that nurtures it He reaches for great minds occasionally, and does enjoy the sex, vagrant sex, begging, dirty unpure love, after intoxicating wine, red like the flesh beneath the white skin of the lily. Can anyone ever feel close to him, his heart, his pores, flowing with sweat as they dance like cobras, one fatal dance. He longs for his muse, for breath to steal, his heart to give, for warmth to feel He longs like the flower for the soil Is this the poet one who sees all, talks of nothing, finds meaning in the passage of time and the random events that precipitate through the eternal moment Can he give through his words everything a soul and yet cannot find his own? He travels, in and out dazed through dreams night mares, riding white horses looking and trying to synthesize the meaning of life in a single word. He looks, he finds, he losses, he is a single drop of dew, an atom in the grand universe and slowly he closes his eyes and is gone... Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven claws Jim Morrison |
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| © Copyright 2000 Anthony Di Bartolomeo - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Elizabeth Santos Member Rara Avis
since 1999-11-08
Posts 9269Pennsylvania |
Toni, This is quite a piece of poetry. I'm still reeling, so I don't know exactly what to say except that I would love to read more of your work, and I see that you have only posted 7 poems here. I hope to see more soon. Liz |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Welcome to Passions, Tony! This poem says much! I believe poets encompass this and so much more. They come from all walks and everyone writes for their own individual reasons! I think you have just about summed that up here! Denise |
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Tony Di Bart Member
since 2000-01-26
Posts 160Toronto, Canada |
Thanks ladies. I really enjoy this site. I have posted on several other site but this is my absolute favorite. I'm never leaving Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven claws Jim Morrison |
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