Peter
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Peter asked in Arts & HumanitiesPoetry · 8 years ago

�������A poet's plight . . .c/c?

If I could with a word well-chosen tell

You of the mysteries I've come to know

In sweet-sad murmurs of the vesper bell,

My throttled tongue would then so overflow

With timeless tales of pure supernal glow

That streams from common places all have seen

(That mark and mock our outer life below),

Would be repealed, as if a stubborn screen

Had been dissolved; and all that lies between

The parclose paling of the piece-bright world

And what is masked -- the pure and ever green --

Would then pour forth, as through a thin wall thurled.

The truth I've glimpsed, and yet no words are found,

And so by failing silence I am bound.

This silence that's become my sole estate

Has come of late to blur what's real and dreamed;

I have been set adrift to navigate

On seas that are, and are not, what they seemed.

For I have seen the center -- still -- that's teemed

Beneath the veil that not one soul denies,

And by its sight am both damned and redeemed

In ways I could not hope to analyze,

But which have in a strange way made me wise,

Though by their awful loneliness I'm swept --

Their wisdom seems all language to despise;

So often in my longing have I wept.

These are the poles that I am drawn between,

And yet how could you know quite what I mean?

While walking once along a country lane

I spied a bucket, weather-worn and bare,

Which time and circumstance half-filled with rain.

And on its waters I became aware

Of a lone beetle's silent voyage there,

And in it, mirrored, life's experience;

And now I see such visions everywhere --

I've not dared glimpse the oaken bucket since.

I'm tortured and yet blessed by Providence;

It's come to shake my wakefulness with sights

That pierce me utterly and make no sense.

And what were once my pleasures and delights,

And were for my whole life the goal and sum,

Now exile me to lands where words can't come.

A golden sunset makes my words quite fail,

A crippled child and country road, the same;

In all I sense the same soul-making vale

And know its grandeur full, yet not its name.

And not once did I beckon it, it came

And poisoned me 'til I could speak no more.

Daylight's dull web and I are all the same --

The empty mask that hangs beside the door.

Have I been made the sole inheritor

Of things I feel, but never can explain?

Mere circumstance has scourged me to the core;

With folded hands I slowly go insane.

I've seen God's greatness, but it has been planned

That I not speak of what I understand.

4 Answers

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  • Anonymous
    8 years ago
    Favorite Answer

    With folded hands I go insane.

    I never meant to be this way,

    I want to talk of rivers and lace.

    I want to be just who your are,

    respectable, chaste.

    It is not to be.

    My eyes will continue to roll

    in their sockets, like a frightened horse.

    My will, well less said the better.

    I ,want to see visions and have

    a secret understanding.

    I want to be special, altho'

    that is a stretch.

    Let me tell you my reality.

    Things mean something only to me,

    I am afraid of imagined threats

    I want so to belong in any way.

    But that is not to be. I am too strange,

    too other.

    So I look for kindness from odd people

    that are large in heart.

    One of these days, I will belong,

    but until then I will wait

    for that sympathetic soul.

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  • 8 years ago

    It's good to read a poem on here that actually has structure. Free-verse disgusts me.

    I like this poem and its subject matter. It seems to be a bit long though, finding different ways to say that your realization is beyond all language, and there some awkward parts. Like "and yet how could you know quite what I mean", it seems you just structured it that way so you could continue the iambs, and it doesn't really flow.

    Normally I wouldn't be so critical of a poem on Yahoo, but I'm only being like this because of how good this poem is. There are some sections here that seem to me to be pure Beauty. In fact, I think the first stanza is the most solid part except for the last stanza, which could stand alone without all the rest.

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  • 3 years ago

    For one it suggested kind no longer species there's a distinction. Species are the specialization of a a form, meaning they got here from a consumer-pleasant ancestor. And specialization can ensue straight away. i'm no longer speaking about abiogenesis, yet evolution does ensue. it really is an inevitable area of nature Tiger/Lion Kingdom: Animalia/Kingdom: Animalia Phylum: Chordata/Phylum: Chordata type: Mammalia/type: Mammalia Order: Carnivora/Order: Carnivora family individuals: Felidae/family individuals: Felidae Genus: Panthera/Genus: Panthera Species: Panthera tigris/Species: Panthera leo the clarification you are able to breed a lion and a tiger at the same time and convey offspring(they're purely some circumstances sterile) is because they're are both interior an similar Genus:Panthera I used this exampl of the liger as you had used it. As metioned the bible isn't the purely flood tale.

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  • Anonymous
    6 years ago

    hard matter check out at search engines like google that will can help

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