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a Poet's Epitaph


If I have felt my thoughts too deeply
  then let me be a leper of emotion,
licking my wounds, drying a saddened eye
  in the company of contempt,
ready to withstand the brutal stones
  that be hurled into my heart.

For I am honoured to be misunderstood,
  even if it be deemed that I should wear
the crown of the ultimate fool.

Let it be said that I was lustful
  to comprehend Eternity
and that I sought light at the end of my pen.

  If my words be moldy and hackneyed,
then cast them aside like forgotten sheaths
  of papyrus, brittle and unreadable.

And if I have pursued the breath
  of a poet gone mad,
then let me dwell inside the walls
  of those who have ranted before
so that I can sit at their table of skulls
  and feathers
and exchange the horrors
  and ecstacies
of unseen hallucination.

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Comments

1 - 7 of 7

  • opaqueangel
    August 6, 2007

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    This is great! I loved this peice and thats really all I can say about it. Good luck in the contest.


  • AgeofAquarius
    May 11, 2007

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    Wow

    And if I have pursued the breath
    of a poet gone mad,
    then let me dwell inside the walls
    of those who have ranted before

    so that I can sit at their table of skulls
    and feathers
    and exchange the horrors
    and ecsatcies
    of unseen hallucination.



    Let it be said that I was lustful
    to comprehend Eternity
    and that I sought light at the end of my pen.

    I've never read anything so powerfully prosed to such depths of what a poetic mission is, I ponder the emotional dribble of my claim to poetic lisense in light of the depth you've written here.

    It's easy in the midst of emotions to free feelings that vent feelings but to make a testament that stands the test of time takes much more devotion to the impact of nuances of meaning.

    VERY well written.


  • Bapudi
    May 7, 2007

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    wow

    I love this!! This poem is like hot sparks against the indistiguishable mud of what most people on this site are willing to settle for as poetry. This poem gives me a sense of the sublime, of beauty that comes from fear and trembling rather than pretty sentiment. The last stanza is particularly powerful: "so that I can sit at their table of skulls/and feathers/and exchange the horrors/and ecstacies/of unseen hallucination." I also really like the coupling of meaning between the second and third stanzas. This is healing stuff for me. It's so painful for me to be misunderstood, and I have lately been just barely grasping at a sensation that being misunderstood means you have actually said something, and should be taken as an honor. As you probably know, to have the whispy shadows inside of me articulated in clear, strong language...well that's food, as surely as bread or meat. Thanks for feeding us.


  • rhondasail
    April 25, 2007
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    Your words could never be moldy, or hackneyed...and I for one, wait to read them over and over again. You speak of my own heart here, Marc and probably most of the hearts here on this site would join you there in the hallowed halls of feathers and skulls...Unparalleled...but...just a small typo...ecstacies...otherwise, perfect. Peace, Rhonda


  • Dalaney gold member
    April 22, 2007

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    Superb writing. This is very passionate -
    what poet's heart isn't - and I felt very
    moved when I came to the last word. Another
    unforgettable poem, my friend.

    Love, Lane


  • Nicolette gold member
    April 22, 2007

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    You always write the poems that make me wish I had written them... Wonderfully deep and spiritual...this poem murmurs like water and reflects what so many of us feel and experience. I can only say "amen" to this - only a real poet can go this deep and this high and can write towards the light when others only see darkness. Magical the way you portray a poet's plight, Marc. I leave here refreshed.

    ~ Nicolette

  • Rowan gold member
    April 22, 2007
    Edit | Reply
    Yes, exactly..can I join you there?
    Excellent portrayal of our time-honored plight.

1 - 7 of 7