In mystic mirrors by destiny tried
as love plied silvered sides of clouds;
from ages past eyes sought to see true nature
wondered who they might really be
for faulted vision flowed
in men from ancient days, blinded
and unworthy ways; saw freedom
but to some gave yokes, mud without straw.
Hope was a weathered brick in a wall of dreams,
formed 'tween hands in prayer to empty winds
held by mortar of bonded will
upon foundations of resilient faith.
Its aged stone face was a piece of passage
colored by residue of lives: floods,
parched land and famine; mute witness
to sacrifices of sorrow until hallowed,
a symbol of defiance. A lost freedom
spoken in tongues of time, in words
woven through a universe, hope was
whispered into deep and moody night
and a troubled world made birth
to men of stony resolve more hard
than rock upon which a tomb is raised
greater than the mass of an unfeeling world;
to women in fertile airs
an inhaled breath of creation's kiln
to wait with tinder wick upon flinted spark;
rising again, clay and ash was a Phoenix tide
robin’s egg of an eternal spring.
Shone in every era, to curious and wise
by chance or fateful glory, for chosen they were
in promise and shadow, sunrise and starlight;
gifted with powers of spirit
to awaken dark dormant days
into sunlight and freedom.
Author notes
Metaphor
a brick (a single brick)
You may choose between personification or extended metaphor, and should use your object in a significant way. However, you DO NOT have to use it as the object you personify, or as your extended metaphor, unless you choose to.
In a list
A contest entry
- Poets Survivor 3- Round Four B by Poets Survivor 3.
1700 points, ended July 20, 2008, 3 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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Simply incredible imagery and allusion. Thank you for this important write.
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Finally, I can say thank you to Poets Survivor 3 and to all of the reviewers for this honor, for the chance to write with freedom to choose the subjects and styles[for here all styles and subjects were welcomed]; thank you for the attention paid to all of the details of our work, I speak for all of the writers when saying this is the real reason to write on AP, take part in contests...the chance to grow...thank you for the honor and the wonderful support and encouragement...PK
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BRAVO!
I am stilled within the impact of your words, all from a simple brick - timeless - classic - gripping.
I could feel the harnesses of slavery and men made to push their limits, still holding fast to prophecy, to faith. Visions of the promised land still lingering within tired eyes, reflected in the days end of a red brick. The emotional impact of this piece goes beyond measure.
Mechanically, your poem moves us through the stately levels, one red brick step at a time to freedom.
Lines such as:
"to women in fertile airs
an inhaled breath of creation's kiln
to wait with tinder wick upon flinted spark;
rising again, clay and ash was a Phoenix tide
robin’s egg of an eternal spring."
are so filled with imagery they bring tears and your wonderful natural use of internal rhyme is very very well done adding further impact to your message.
Superb writing with this piece. I am just thrilled to have read such wisdom this evening. Thank you. ~Pamela
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Thank you Pamela-
for your wonderful words, such thoughtful comments; so much attention to parts that we try to bring to the reader, and are never quite sure...until someone reflects and tells us...so very much appreciated...PK -
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PK
I was so very taken with this poem. You have an amazing talent that is a gift to your awareness and ability to convery a message.
It is me who appreciates - and learns. My eyes have opened much more from reading so much of your verse. Such a gift you offer.
Thank you. ~Pamela
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Understandable – how beautifully you move the extended metaphor into what it takes for Freedom. The twining of Christian philosophy and history: The story of the Ten Commandments comes immediately, to me, with the building of the temples; blood sweat and tears, bone and flesh is each straw and mud brick made of; I was touched emotionally by the words “symbol of defiance…oh, yes, there is anger, there is sorrow, there is defiance added to those bricks…this had great emotional impact and drew me into such because I know I would have been one who slapped those hand-molded bricks together fiercely and defiantly knowing the emotion would stay in those bricks forever; as well, I caught an image of the Tower of Babel when you write “tongues” and how it, being made by man with the wrong kind of faith, crumbled, no matter how deeply that projected faith was in the builders; those bricks that stayed, those that crumpled…nice deep meaning to this. The poem begins to speak of Christ and I find it interesting in the alignment of the words “a troubled world made birth”. I am of two minds with this: one that , as a reader, I know how much that birth was made more – a myth built through the ages, and yet, as well, how desperately the world of that time needed hope and something to place faith in… but I understand it….and what hardness there was in this birth of one who would show another way. In the stanza following, I catch an image of the women of the pots, Mary at the well, and the virgins….a new way, a fresh start, a nourishing promise. “Rising clay…. Such gentleness this brings to the poem, a juxtaposition of hard and soft, bland and color, rebirth (man made of dust)… a future’s promise in the egg and rising phoenix…such fierce determination. “Chosen” people, as is believed by some, “curious and wise” is clearly shown in your poem; the promise and, yes, the shadow of what Christianity was and is. The words definitely allude to birth of that new star, Christ, renewed hope and faith. Oh, yes, readers can definitely relate and understand this.
Emotion and impact: Your words are strong and full of what you believe to be true; the reader has no doubt. Because of your deft use of words, the reader is impacted; no matter one’s belief…we can find the metaphor and its power.
Object-Significant: Man himself, made of dust, so the story goes, and fluid from creator’s mouth…the spit, the sacred fluid, that makes us one in DNA with Creator and Earth. A brick, we are, in the making of Earth and its inhabitants. Some bricks made, are flawed and have nothing to hold them together so they crumble easily (mud without straw)…..well done with this significant analogy. “Weathered brick” – yes, yes, time has indeed weathered both man and church and state, that has become all missed up with the origins….but some, as well, stand leaning on one another, that “bonded will”, that keeps a certain faith resilient. “Aged stone” that has stood the test of time, more perfectly made than man-made brick… passed through the sacrifices, the punishing parts of life down here on earth and the flaws of man-made things, and freedom of man lost, by chance of poor decisions and translations…like inscriptions on weather burial monuments, erased by time unless chiseled in perfect hard stone. Faith, and the stony resolve of patching bricks and fashioned clay images, came to mind…where it took more faith through the years to understand the reality of the tomb. Bravo, pen person!
Poetic Device: I love your inferences that come seeping through. Silver lining of clouds – and the inference of age as wisdom, is one. “past eyes sought to see true nature” is an inference that speaks to me of going back and following the first words and what if we had remembered those first commands… did the first elders wonder how far we would stray? I am wondering at the inference from “faulted vision” flowing in men from ancient days and wonder if you are inferring to the knowing they had that humans are flawed? The metaphor is strong, pen friend, throughout the poem. The mix of metaphor and similes of “Hope was….wall formed ‘tween hands in prayer held by…will…of resilient faith,” really shows the command you have of language.
“The aged stone face…’ implies to me the stony face of Creator in that, despite his sacrifice, he sorrows. Personification is deep and rich here. The Babel confusion that came by implications of a rich metaphor as snake that weaves between the grooves and whispers yet to hope that a savior would come. Powerful!!!!!!! The juxtaposition of a stony faceoff God and stony resolve of man and the differences, wow! And then you juxtapose yet again…Layers upon layers of meaning are unearthed in deep analysis of your poem. The softening voice of the narrator as women and bird and egg is brought in to play with meaning and connotations. I love it. “Creation’s kiln” and “flinted spark” speak to me of women’s place and man’s place in my traditional ancient culture, as well, as most cultures: Woman’s work/man’s work (Implications of “works = faith and projection of one’s faith) and the further implications that we must balance each other, while balancing one another’s way of hope and faith and resilience. The inference and analogy of plat’s Cave is strong, friend, at the end of the poem and we know the messages sent by that…awaken…
Mechanics: Perfect but I have one little wonder…the first two lines felt mechanically weak to me. When I read it, I am wondering if you meant love-plied, or love, plied? I struggled with it right from the beginning of the read, but put it aside as the rest of the poem carried me into the core meanings.
This is by far, the deepest, richest poem i have ever read of yours. Bravo, pen, Bravo!
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Oh, Gosh, PK. Now this one... this one I truly ADORED! And I did what your title said, lol. I inhaled. Deeply. When I got to that impact line, "hope was a weathered brick in a wall of dreams" I literally gasped and held my breath, only to have the remarkable impact carried out in the metaphorical lines that followed. I loved the formation of the brick/hope between praying hands, my goodness! ... and the mortar that holds it all together being the will--just remarkable wording. Interesting way to make the "silver lined cloud" fresh again, too! It retains its normal symbolism of hope, but not it cliche usage. Nice.
I also loved the allusions to the children of Israel, their Egyptian captivity and their triumphal freedom. The story of when they were Pharaoh's slaves, and were forced to make mud bricks without the straw they would normally use, worked here as an absolutely perfect analogy. They had only hope/prayers to be the cohesive force, the element of substance. This allusion gave an EPIC sense to the poem, and elevated it to a realm of import that such topics as freedom and hope inherently deserve. I was literally in awe.
You continued on with this same lofty tone as you extended your brick/hope metaphor by speaking of its color being made from the hardships of men. The "residue of lives" almost seemed a reference to our creation from the dust of the earth, thus as we crumble back into dust, remix with the earth, our stories paint the color of the mud that makes up the brick. Here you also personified the brick wonderfully by speaking of it as a "mute witness."
And I love that phrase, "a lost freedom." It is easy to overlook that word, "lost," if we are not careful, but its inclusion in the phrase is of profound significance. We were not created to be bound and enslaved or repressed...every man was designed for freedom, and thus the truly significant loss. So it's not that we're not free that is the main tragedy... it is the idea that we were designed for freedom, once walked in it, but now have lost it.
BUT, as you point out, it is the "essentialness" of freedom woven though the universe that we inhale (the very breath of God) reminding us and empowering us that we were meant for more. Having been through "creation's kiln" (awesome extention, btw) we are strong and fit for more.
And the fruition at the ending--when the elements of clay and ash, the elements of our mud brick, rise again to greatness, to freedom--was so inspiring to read. I also particularly enjoyed the comprehensive nature of this freedom portrayed with the great and small images of the victorious Phoenix and the tiny robin's egg. I love the ultimate, restored picture of the Phoenix as well as the promise of "eternal spring" of the egg.
That last stanza, though still great in scope, draws the reader's perspective back down to a level of personal or particular societal application. As Moses was for the children of Israel, there are those called out from the multitude, those who have been inspired, or breathed upon, with vision to share, to speak the words that will "awaken" us out of darkness and into his marvelous light. I like how you point out that there are those "in every era" so that no generation of people should walk in bondage. It was not meant to be. Also, the ending reflects back to the initial "problem" stated in the beginning, bringing a wonderful unity and perfect closure to the piece. May the called speak the message. May the hearers truly hear.
Profound poetry. You have this judge's ultimate respect and humble gratitude for this stellar piece.
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You have touched on the heart here, of the ideas and the effort to express; a flow of freedom, a gift from God, the right we must all recognize in order to understand our own basic nature...free choice, the search for ourselves and meaning in existence. I understand the effort it takes to pour thought and attention into a writing, put the same creative energy needed to write in the first place...really perhaps even more... and always the ability to put aside one's own ideas and see someone else's vision...an exceedingly rare thing... for these and other reasons, thank you for this most welcomed and thoughtful contribution...PK
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Gorgeous! I loved the juxtaposition of the heavy, hard images of stone, brick and darkness with the uplifting, rising of hope, awakening, light. I thought this was amazing, and the metaphor was done beautifully.
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Thank you Mallie-
congrats to you on your trophy...and for stayin' alive
...PK
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Enjoyed this much, brother. Loved the metaphors as I'm a met addict. Subtle rhymes makes it better. Write on. One.
Dez
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Very good use of metaphor...bricks as witness of lives, those residents of a house, different people, different times. And again the alliterations worked very smooth.
Another well done poem!
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This is strong and powerful, the solid brick who indeed is the cement of life in a house or a home and sees all the crumbling done from within. I enjoyed this very much. Love, C
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