I love metaphysical poems in which highly evocative language traces the contours of a mystery, reminding us of the mystery's existence (so often ignored by our calloused souls), without actually revealing it. Your poem does exactly that, and that's why, when I read it, it seemed to leap off the page at me. (Two of Wallace Stevens' late poems, "The Planet On The Table," and, "Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Paramour," have that same effect on me.) I am convinced that you are one of those Cosmic Poets that write the very highest level of Poetry here at postpoems.
Mystery is all around us and yet the mysterious and the mystical is a super scary thing to the western mind. Any wonder that there were witch hunts for centuries. The hunt was not exclusively for witches as such but to hunt down the fear of the unknown and the uncontrollable. But I digress. In reading and poetry we often gloss over or ignore what seems to be on the onset a challenge to norm, conventions, and basic communication patterns that each language and culture has been employing, why fix it if it ain't broke kind of mode. But I have found a pioneering spirit in the braver poets and poetry such as Samuel Greenburg and the like who push the capacities of language and break through to new forms and ways of evoking thought and expression. That has not always been the staple and invites gainsayers, naysayers, and outright opposition. But those are the breaks. I am convinced that the further we go along the Babel coordinates the closer we can get to a heavenly language or mode of expression. As a northern Aussie saying goes: "You'll never (n)ever know if you'll never (n)ever go." Thanks most kindly for your gracious words of comment.
I love metaphysical poems in
I love metaphysical poems in which highly evocative language traces the contours of a mystery, reminding us of the mystery's existence (so often ignored by our calloused souls), without actually revealing it. Your poem does exactly that, and that's why, when I read it, it seemed to leap off the page at me. (Two of Wallace Stevens' late poems, "The Planet On The Table," and, "Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Paramour," have that same effect on me.) I am convinced that you are one of those Cosmic Poets that write the very highest level of Poetry here at postpoems.
Starward
Mystery is all around us and
Mystery is all around us and yet the mysterious and the mystical is a super scary thing to the western mind. Any wonder that there were witch hunts for centuries. The hunt was not exclusively for witches as such but to hunt down the fear of the unknown and the uncontrollable. But I digress. In reading and poetry we often gloss over or ignore what seems to be on the onset a challenge to norm, conventions, and basic communication patterns that each language and culture has been employing, why fix it if it ain't broke kind of mode. But I have found a pioneering spirit in the braver poets and poetry such as Samuel Greenburg and the like who push the capacities of language and break through to new forms and ways of evoking thought and expression. That has not always been the staple and invites gainsayers, naysayers, and outright opposition. But those are the breaks. I am convinced that the further we go along the Babel coordinates the closer we can get to a heavenly language or mode of expression. As a northern Aussie saying goes: "You'll never (n)ever know if you'll never (n)ever go." Thanks most kindly for your gracious words of comment.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
Thank you for your reply, and
Thank you for your reply, and I really like that Aussie saying you quoted.
Starward