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Open Poetry #30
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Ode on Structure
| Open Poetry #30 |
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Ode on Structure |
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Astro Member
since 2003-01-08
Posts 69Ca. |
Ode on Structure Inside the collapsed heap of brick, Beside these separated parts Placed in skewed arrangements -- collage Encased in a cage of red brick, Soft moans lift like ghosts of curling smoke, Scoffed and bruised by Gravity’s abuse, And, upon settling to scattered Sand, acquiesce to fade like spent smoke. Silence nestles until hunger Hints at the emptiness within --Without. Angry rumblings stutter, Shout! with such ferocious hunger. Silent as a blue-jays nest at night Now rent with squawking at dawn’s delight --Drums that roll in remembrance of sight Some voiceless soldiers saw in the night. Gossamery solace, these marred Memories provide. Of substance, Sustenance, there is naught but lives Lanced -- flesh irreparably marred; Flesh, that, even now in marbled green Mesh, is fetid and reeks of decay, Does seem animate still, with bitter Buzz; the din of dimness, glowing green. Those remnant survivors writhe with Woes of both body and soul, trapped Tangled, entwined with the mauled, Mangled dead and mortar joined with. Concrete accomplishments lie fallen, Faux feat of Atlantean forte, Financial planning, doctors, suites of Substantial penthouse people -- fallen. By that cinder, those splintered blocks, Bisected by torso in twain, Toddler pieces grasp the steel once Soldered into pink playtime blocks. Pink cheeks are turning pale, like lifeless Links of gray chain. The spectre of hope, Haughty in fleeting, trails stench – a black Body that is bloated and lifeless. Sounding from the lush black, pulsing, Pounding periodically like Lazy heartbeats, a haunting and Hazy thing is forming – pulsing. Pebbles crumble down like retreating Rebels, falling back from the front lines, Lichen pushed back by the blue tide; some Stricken rock from the shore retreating. Blind for so long; the radiance Reminds that sight is an always Awful beginning, as children Coddle themselves in radiance Of a thousand fractured prisms. Light: Lovely proud strands of sweet-salted tears That pour forth for the fractured and the Flat, the cold of night and blinding light, Tears that are spent for the yawning Years and cold crimes committed in Cruel moments; tears that take joy in Jewels -- that wail for wounds still yawning. Iron caged bars snap open, ripped wide From their concrete enclosures outside The burning sirens wail with mouths wide. Inside, clovers line this massive grave. The bustle about masquerades As some passing thought, not as grave. Stacking bricks Collapsing bricks Removing bricks Sight is an always awful beginning |
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| © Copyright 2003 Luke Austin Donatello - All Rights Reserved | |||
Masked Intruder
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-05-23
Posts 1231Near golden sunsets |
I cannot believe there hasn't been a response to this yet. The images were magnificent. I especially relate to this one, since I have a nest of those talkative crestadas living outside my window. "Silent as a blue-jays nest at night Now rent with squawking at dawn’s delight" Magnificent work! -*-*- |
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Astro Member
since 2003-01-08
Posts 69Ca. |
You rock! Yeah, there aren't any replies to this one 'cause it's so long and arduous. Thanx for taking the time to read it! Sight is an always awful beginning |
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Masked Intruder
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-05-23
Posts 1231Near golden sunsets |
Hey, if someone's complaining that a poem as good as this one is just too long... I dunno bout that. People really should take the time to read it. -*-*- |
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Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
What a fantastic title for this poem! And my goodness! The poem was rich in imagery ~ and so varied! You sure know how to stack, collapse, and remove alotta structures! lol  EA |
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Astro Member
since 2003-01-08
Posts 69Ca. |
Earth Angel: Thanx! What's funny, is that this is a poem about collapsed structures, yet it so heavily structured, itself. The first words of each line rhyme with the next. The last words of each line alliterate to the next. The last word of each first line, per stanza, repeats at the end of the stanza. Even the meter is meticulously kept. It's insanity. Thanx again for reading it. Masked Intruder: you're too kind. I understand and accept that most people won't want to take the time to read this poem, but I'm so appreciative of people, like yourself, who do enjoy this type of thing. Thanx again. Sight is an always awful beginning |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
Brick-by-brick, bone-by-bone, line-by-line, I'm sensing strict surgical stitch-by-stitch precision in this write.  well done! |
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Sadelite Member Elite
since 2003-10-11
Posts 2519 |
Astro, Yep. It definitely has structure to give it such a nice flow! Happy writing, Sadelite |
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