I. end
from the top of the world, i watch
streetlights burn out and shatter
under the force of my fist.
buildings are leveled;
fire licks its prisoners until
penance is completed.
the clock tower explodes
and chimes the dirge of change.
II. timeless
there is no timekeeper, now.
we glide through dimensions,
through emptiness.
man has been entangled by
two stiff hands,
woven through roman numerals
hour by hour.
III. cleansed
the moon-star rises from the virgin east
and greets barren land.
she is so beautiful
even with scarred skin.
timeless laughter echoes through
valleys and oceans,
whispers to the nascent soil.
IV. travail
and with each strain, the earth is
reborn and announced.
day after day i watch her,
calloused and aged,
grow youthful even as the fresh land
saps her very life.
V. beginning
earth sits in the eternal hand of time,
now full-fledged, waits for flight,
for maturity,
for growth.
a cherry blossom, fleeting, declares
the hour for life has come.
VI. ripe
venus crones from the charming south.
man rises from the cooled ashes,
praises the beauty of land, sky, and sea.
love flows sweetly down
tranquil streams.
life hums through man and woman,
and the earth is kind.
VII. labor
imperfection manifests itself
as men compete for privilege.
they are determined to prove their
superiority to the stars, and
endeavor to control the elements
around them.
still, a man may correct a mistake.
VIII. industrialized
now the viridian land is
steel grey and breathes coal poison;
hunters turn slave masters and
hold good earth under cruel whip.
through all, it is not realized
that man was meant to be
servant and not master.
IX. conflict
mars rises from the hostile west,
mumbles at humans turned cannibal.
now, they slaughter one another, and
destroy the peace which once
existed in an idyllic land.
rigid silver dissonance is coated with
a sanguinary struggle.
X. discord
man crumples into himself,
plummets from the coachman’s seat,
weeps under indigo twilight.
he is slaughtered suddenly, by one
who seeks understanding
to a question that was
never meant to be asked.
XI. decomposition
pillars tumble and crush any
who may be left, although
there are none.
the rice patty fields stand unnerved,
soggy green stalks lean under
the moon-star.
she guides the milky way.
XII. end
i, the sun, rise from the north
and smile upon empty land.
two hands forever mark
the time, turn gently, and
store the past in a jar at the
furthest corner of the circle.
Author notes
apologies for the length, i believe this is my best piece.
A contest entry
- For Poets Who Have Never Won a Trophy In My Contests! by Cupcrazy.
450 points, ended June 27, 2007, 14 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Une saison en enfer by Aesthete.
1500 points, ended August 24, 2007, 62 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
please, critical review?
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Indeed this can be taken as an epic poem, however I see it as a microcosm of every day, as we live and breath, create and fail, try and succeed, then fail again, forgive ourselves, and seek fogiveness, release joy, accept pain and allow it to evolve into joy again. There is a completeness to this piece, like an outside observer is telling the story of that which was observed, finished at some point in time. As if there is a sentinal for each of us, that sees the end of our pathyet stays mute to the glory or destruction awaiting. There is aclue though, a precise line that reveals your hope...
Stanza VII, aptly entitlesd "Labor"
"still, a man may correct a mistake." yes that is truth, and it is hard work! Amazing writing! Geo
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i believe it is excellent as well. you've won two trophies already but it was very well written with a good flow and profound meaning.
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the only definition i can come up with for crone is as a noun that is an old woman or hag, no definitions for crone as a verb so perhaps you need to edit
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this IS one of the better works i've read of yours i like it alot..... and its so true we're just killing ourselves... but i like how man rises again in this epic.... but only to fall..... maybe one day we will rise for a final time..... and get it right.... maybe =i will be there.... transcended spirt or somethin.... ha anyway lovely write
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Very good job! The best of luck!
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This is just beautiful and I love it. It is a complete circle. Wonderfully written with lovely form and flow. The thoughts are deep and compelling. Thank you for this excellent piece of art. Hugs, Bunny
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there's so much drama here...i believe you've achieved somethin kinda epic in its depth. for starters i love how we develope the story in degrees and of course usin roman numerals to outline the idea of time... movin through stages of human development. the cycle that you outlined has been goin on as far back as written history and earlier. but the way you approached this was sprinkled of course with your own flavor and a wisdom that does nothin less than shock. i appreciated every offering. there's no weak stanzas here..but my favorites are one, 3,6,8,9...i will continue to look this over and see if i can think of ways to improve. so far i've got nothin ....excellent write my friend
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I have to agree with the person who said that they love the idea of you bringing this around to full circle. I can honestly tell you that before I read the last line, "full circle" was exactly what was running through my head. It reminds me of history repeating iteself or maybe just recycling another era.
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1 reminds me of doctor doom from marvel for some reason (comic books, not movies).
Nascent is such a cool fucking word. What's travail mean? *looks it up on dicitonary.com*
"still a man may correct a mistake..." great line. Not sure if I agree with it, and possibly a little non-sequiter (sp?) but a great line nontheless.
Viridian is a cool word, too.
I love how you brought everything around "full circle," all Apollonian like. Male dominance, or Apollonian dominance, conquers in this poem. I absolutely love it (and not just 'cause I'm a male).
You should check out a book called "Sexual Personae: Art and Decadance From Nefrifiti to Emily Dickinson" by Camille Paglia. I'm reading it right now and it's fucking brilliant. This was too. Keep up the good work and I'll keep reading, miss cassidy.
~James
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thanks james... your comment means a lot to me. i will definitely check that book out, am adding it to my summer reading list right now
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the rise and fall of civilization
I like it
The images are crisp in the focus of detachment
and the precision of love
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"from the top of the world, i watch
streetlights burn out and shatter
under the force of my fist."
Actually, the first portion is entirely strong.
Superb!
This is also very strong,
"the rice patty fields stand unnerved,
soggy green stalks lean under
the moon-star.
she guides the milky way."
I love it! Wonderful description.
I feel like this whole piece was well thought out. It's very ... unique you could say, which isn't a bad thing. It's just new. :] I liked it.
Good job <3
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