In this I shall fail
grail tort, aye twist
at the sight of the third eye
hovering,
Don Quixote
jousting with a drooping lance-
one tear,
or blue at just the right moment;
what say you to the movement of the Book,
as the figures dance,
a blade of green grass
a quick flash
then thunder
when the sky falls,
a face wet in the night
what law is this
that throws me to my knees
a curtained sleet
that slashes me;
a chrysalis
holding not yet?
A labour to unbind it,
Atlas shifts the world.
Sweetly does May come round
with promises
secrets play at children's knees
in the meadow
everyone comes home free
when the trees cast shadows
and the owl eyes glow.
It is as though
you wept at the thought of it
and I sat next to you
filled with wonder.
In a list
A contest entry
- of Beauty by cvillelisa.
425 points, ended December 21, 2006, 20 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
-
Read that last stanza ...
Is that it? -
??? -
Great work.
-
ive missed you terribly.
-
Hardly seems fair that you enter. But I'm so glad you did.
Of all the peoples I read, your words have held me captive since ages ago. From the very first poem. Odd how that happens isn't it? And I've learned from you more about the art by just being a barnacle or groupie or stalker around your work too.
Probably the most difficult contest I've had. Not in terms of judging they are all difficult - in terms of grappling with the subject matter myself. I've been telling people what part of the poem hits me the hardest with regard to the subject matter - and I realize I'm no closer to knowing the answer to of Beauty that I was when I started but I've been moved more than a few times by some of the words I've read. So that is a good thing.
In this I shall fail
Exactly. Thank you, most humble poet.
what law is this
that throws me to my knees
a curtained sleet
that slashes me;
a chrysalis
holding not yet?
I just mentioned to someone else - Beauty is nearly a promise, a beckoning, something over the horizon, mysterious. holding not yet. And yet ..
It is as though
you wept at the thought of it
and I sat next to you
filled with wonder.
Despite what some say, it is probably fair to say that poetry is rooted in the romantic, such an assertion is perhaps naive yet given the poets ....
ah, excuse me, my mind wanders with that unselfish, romantic closing stanza.
I hate contests. I shall never host another as long as I am a member of All Poetry. ( unfortunately, I think I've lied and said that before but maybe I've learned my lesson this time ).
Sorry its taking me so long. I really am an awful host.
Lisa
-
Sublime
"everyone comes home free"
that tore it up for me
still misty
so much allusion
to chaucer, cervantes, mabinogen, ancient and classical literature
I come away always from your work a bit in awe
and knowing I am in the shadow
I shudder
I'm still in the midst of "Mother Courage" but have a day off to come up for air
I found it here
I inhale your poems as much as read them
They are necessary.
Peace.
-
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and we each see things in different ways. Be it small in wonder or large in aweness - we believe in beauty of all things -even the most miniscule thing.
-
This surely show us the beauty in the things that are small and part of unimaginable large. If we cannot see the small beauty we cannot hope to define the large, and how strange that it is better seen through the eyes of someone else.
Adding your comment:
1 - 8 of 8
