Where men die,
small pockets of meaning collect like dew
or a light mist hovering in a churchyard,
And untrained or forgetful eyes build
grand religious doctrines out of their translucence,
their transience, and their dissipation.
Where men die,
great heaving sighs fill the atmosphere
and they have all collected,
Like the howl of wolves who have preyed
echoing in rocky caves whose capstones are immovable--
chasing the spirits of captive sleepers they contain.
Where men die--
it is the smallest thing--
the very smallest--
thing.
It is where they live, and the how of it..
It is when they live, and the short history
which sets its eclectic stage.
We follow to the beat of their
death rattle, but do not march.
by our wits--we only
guess at there direction.
A contest entry
- The Refuge of Poetry in Times of Great Sorrow by FunnelWaxFate.
700 points, ended July 28, 2008, 19 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Absolutely incredible!!! The imagery is so amazing! Such eloquence. Such a pulse and throttle to this piece, very captivating. Very haunting and moving write! Such eloquence; very powerful and masterful language. The metaphoric prowess is astounding. From the very beginning, it is enthralling and captivating and does not release the reader throughout; and beyond, it instills a long marination of thought…absolutely amazing!!! I especially loved the lines, “It is when they live, and the short history
which sets its eclectic stage.” Such beautiful language…very dreary, dismal and fascinating. I also especially adored the lines, “And untrained or forgetful eyes build
grand religious doctrines out of their translucence,
their transience, and their dissipation.” How there are legends and doctrines and such importance equated to mortals, those that left the world, as finite and as sinner, imperfect, I felt from these lines. Yet such divinity and immortality is evoked by their spirit, ghostly lingering…An incredible write, thrust me into a deep stew of thought. Well done!!!!
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I'm not to sure about the last lines here...there a little to abeyant for me. You could do somethings better with them i think. (I really like those poems with the witty or good endings this one just didnt have it for me) I'm not saying this isn't an accomplished poem but the ending could be better. OH, i love the term 'expire' instead of die any day it sounds way cooler
'where men expire' , well its been fun reading your poetry...carry on
~ Maddie
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