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The Body of My Work
The Body of My Work
Encrusted, encapsulated deep below
Unbroken turf
In embryonic solitude with rare
Interrupted seminal moments
Organic reality struggles
To touch sky
Ground long lain fallow
Not ignored more feared
Each mattock blow breaking sod
Left defensively unturned
Lest last vestige should leech
Irrecoverably lost in tawny run-off
A stanza, a verse aptly spoken
Pile driven aerator to break clay
Chipped marble slate gray shed
Brings life or revelation
That eviscerated corpse under copse
Exposed to a sun unseen for years
Inspiration storms across meadow
Washing, bathing, battering, caressing in turn
Awaiting the day there might strike that stroke
Drawn by a phrase rightly turned
That sparks across that eternal internal synapse
Life to discover
……. Self to recover
………….………Who I am shown to the words
© 4/20/00 Barton J. Breen
Hi Bart this piece is absolutely excellent,I love it! I've read a lot of pieces at PP over the past three years but this is the best I've read to date. Most would not understand a lot of words you use, but I do and I've had similar said about my work, that others don't understand a lot of the words or find it "heavey" to understand. One need only read carefully to understand,don't you agree?
this poem :*)
is out of sight .