That gleam upon your almond iris
did not descend by selection
from dark African jungles where apes
stood upright, catching the incident
of the sun upon the equatorial, flashing
superior intellect in mutual gaze.
Nor epsilon work functions, freeing
miniscule trapped vibrations to run their course.
Nor optics, which carry bold geometries
on convex lens approximations,
while accounting for constricted vessels.
Nor the smell of Broadway, with grouping women
ecstatic like snake-handlers, in faithful flocks,
sharing lustful glances.
It made brown such delight that I would stare
for hours, deeming pleasures above all else--heavenly,
and pounding clichés out of this heart
until it was sick by the antagonist
in every play the playwrights dared to dream.
It gleamed brilliant,
flamed the world with obscure Zoharic dictums
of Neshamah, in spheres the geometer scoffs,
but leak their secret ‘illumined sixth street black hats
dancing Torah’ browned by age to match the encasement
of your eyes. Like Rabbis buried years
in mounds of chocolate dirt,
feasting on the carob tree and visions.
A contest entry
- show me... your power, your drive by Poetic Drug.
600 points, ended July 10, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - We're All About The Love... by hey charlie.
700 points, ended August 22, 2008, 37 entries
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1300 points, ended July 11, 2008, 15 entries
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Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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This is a bunch of garbage strung together to give it the effect of meaning, when all that really exists is you, dean koontz, sitting next to a computer in his whitey tighties, thumbing frantically through a thesaurus hopelessly hoping to sound half as intelligent as any author on the planet (this includes children's books authors. My apologies Mr. Koontz, you have failed...again.
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I really did like this poem, too.
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Wait... hehe isn't this your poem?
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You have some interesting and unique metaphors in this piece. Good word choices in 'equatorial' 'epsilon' etc. 'the smell of Broadway' caught my attention in particular. What I find most powerful in this piece is the second layer of ideas that goes on. The spiritual side of the poem. Conversely, this may also be its greatest weakness, as it is the most difficult to understand. In a way, I think you will find this poem too well written or unreachable to win medals in the average contest on AP. But don't let that bother you. This is quite good. (Though I wonder what the random box at the end of your poem is for)
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ah that box, its for Schroedinger's cat perhaps? I have no idea how it got there.
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It's pretty but I wish that it wasn't so hard to understand. Keep in mind that if your judges are teenagers, they're likely to have a less extensive vocabulary than you and will sum up that your poem is simply a bunch of big words and random phrases that look good together. Unfortunately, my vocabulary isn't very much larger than the average teen's so I can't give you a decent comment on this even if I broke out a dictionary. If you'd like, you can explain what you were trying to say and I'll review it again. I've had people do that in the past and it often makes the poem easier to understand.
Thanks for entering.
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The first stanza is basically saying that the spark in the subjects eyes (which are the gateway to the soul)is not the product of evolution, not even that particular moment when two pre-humans gazed upon eachother whith the simultaneous epiphany that they existed.
or epsilon work functions
freeing miniscule trapped
vibrations to run their course.--meaning of course, that the gleam is not a product of the movement of electrons between quantized orbits in accordance with the work function in quantum mechanics.
"or optics, which carry
bold geometries on convex lens
approximations while
accounting for constricted vessels."
Meaning it is not the product of reflection or refraction in accordance with the laws of optics.
"or the smell of Broadway, with grouping
women ecstatic like snake handlers,
in faithful flocks,
sharing secrets sane men misanthrope
and demise."
meaning it is not an emanation of ecstasy as you see in the eyes of those who stand close and look upon their idols (especially those idols who are genius at fraud).
and pounding clichés out of this heart
until it was sick by the antagonist
in every play the playwrights dared to dream
Meaning That the gleam was so powerful it made me hate all hings dark, even those which live in fantasy.
"It gleamed brilliant,
flamed the world
with obscure Zoharic dictums
of Neshamah
in spheres the geometer scoffs,"
The Zohar is the book of splendor in true Kabbalah, which reveals the hiddenness of G-d. Neshamah is the higher soul. The spheres described are the K'lipoth, the powersources by which creation derives its energy.
"but leak their secret illumined
sixth street black hats dancing Torah
browned by age to match
the encasement of your eyes.
like Rabbis buried years in mounds
of chocolate dirt,
feasting on the carob tree and visions."
Black hats are orthodox jews, the Torah is the five books of Moses on a scroll which has been browned by age.
The rabbis in the cave are Rabbi Simeon bar Yohai with his son They buired themselves in the sand up to their necks, and studied the Torah all day long. And were given insight into the secrets of G-d's creation. In summation I am compairing the brown eyes of the woman to something beyond biology, physics, light, ecstacy--as being a revelation of the light of G-d itself. I wish I could describe it word by word, equations and all but I would hate to waste so much time and there is a chance I might bore you.
PLUR.
--David.
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This was an amazing write
you really have a talent
I hope you keep up the good work
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this is a very descriptive piece..great imagery to
very interesting and different!!thank for entering my contest and good luck..
Oh and put the option # in your AN box..it's part of the rules
Keep penning!!!
Lieu
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Whose this for? It's prettyy.
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Wow!
You have some wonderful phrasing here and powerful imagery. Very well written; I will have to look up Zoharic dictums! I like reading something that sends me to the dictionary.
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browned by age to match
the encasement of your eyes.
like Rabbis buried years in mounds
of chocolate dirt,
feasting on the carob tree and visions.
Well you impressed me with very amazing immagery portrayed here in this poetic version..well done...
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