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jude forese

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Poetry
· larger voice

· unraveling

· digesting newness

· a signal yet learned

· abstraction on evergreen sojourn

· forlorn verses

· broken dreams

· recycled and transformed

· disturbing the peace

· repairing: the inevitable wound of change

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  the Vapor of Light
by jude forese
Monday, January 02, 2006
Rated "G" by the Author.

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Recent poems by jude forese
•  unraveling
•  larger voice
•  digesting newness
•  a signal yet learned
•  abstraction on evergreen sojourn
           >> View all 910

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It seems like the steam of years gone by
Fogs the mirror
As she undresses
After a long night
Of searching for dreams,
Yearning to find a glimpse of them in her reflection

Actually, she had grown too accustomed
To the tawdry echo of shadowy voices

Dancing to the heartbeat of midnight masses

Genuflecting to the regalia of religious rhetoric
Inside her wounded heart

Yet there was always the anticipation
That surprise could ooze its away
Through the haze of transparent voices
And sweated faces

Vibrant episodes of heated twilights
Surged from her memory
With visions of supple bodies
Effortlessly dancing to the music
Inside the psyche
Of tireless desires and combining flesh tones

Culminating in an evening’s quixotic quest
To dance among the stars

So as she lies down on her bed
Maneuvering herself to sleep,
The breath of past lifetimes
Covers her body with the vapor of light
    



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Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 1/20/2006
Most exellently crafted Jude!!

Love Tinka
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 1/4/2006
I like. I like. Full of mystery, this lady in the mirror, remembering lost loves from other lives. Among your best, Jude.

Ron
Reviewed by C. McGovern-Bowen 1/4/2006
Ah yes, wounded hearts do take comfort in that "vapor of Light"...
Another stunning write, Jude.
Peace,
Carolyn
Reviewed by Dawn Richerson 1/3/2006
Vibrant episodes of heated twilights

just loved that line! vapor is such an effective image that manages to both reinforce earlier images and offer a striking contrast to the heaviness one feels earlier. great work. Dawn
Reviewed by Janet Parker 1/3/2006
Beautiful flowing dream-like poem, Jude.
Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater 1/2/2006
The primal inclusion being the Rosicrucian, the esoteric society during the Renaissance, which illustrates triumph of spirit over matter adopted by Hermetic occult under magical order of Golden Dawn. The Rose Cross symbolizes the material plane and the cycle of death and rebirth, which is her vapor of light and stuff and the rose represents the unfolding nature of spiritual growth. When the equal arm is crossed, it has a secret meaning, that being the word, lux, or light, hidden in the arms. Lux is now coming to surface from her past lifetime.

Sage
Reviewed by Kay P Devenish 1/2/2006
'To dance among the stars'
one only has to read this poem or any of yours.
Awesome work/poetry from you as always.
Happy New Year Robert and thank you for giving us your genius last year.I look forward to reading lots of yours this year.
Best wishes always to you and yours,
From
kay.
Reviewed by Nordette Adams 1/2/2006
Ingriguing story told here, Jude. ~~Nordette
Reviewed by L. Figgins 1/2/2006
Beyond the image in the mirror and within her is that vital life force which only needs to be summoned from her tired will. Too often we except the roles assigned to us and live life like a walking dream. Trauma whether physical or psychological can cause a major shift in our thinking as we mature. In this is a blessing and a life reborn. Pity we can't summon it for ourselves as we tend to hold to the familiar beleiving we are at least secure where we are...Love this psychological portrait, RJ. Well done! Joy to you in this New Year...Lin
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 1/2/2006
Ooo... another "fly on the wall" write... or is it "mirror on the wall"?! Have to agree with Peter on the Sarsted lyric... makes me laugh cos I always think I was in Juin Les Pins when he wrote it! :)) Anyway, this certainly does have the clanking of sepulchral chains about it, the oppression of "the heavy stuff" of religion as opposed to the lightness of "free spirit". It's truly a shame when the religiosity of form and tradition takes the place of the freedom of the life force of the inner man and murders it. The genuine existance of faith, hope and love should always transport us upwards to the stars and not damn us down. Whatever; receiving the warm breath of life that fogs the mirror from eons past sounds eminently favourable to being inadequately covered by the meaness of the holey/holy(??) blanket of cold comfort... or am I back on Andy's page? (It's OK... I'm not gonna ask if you've got Ed's elephant in your pyjamas, so that's alright...) And dancing is always good... any excuse! :)) Good stuff, Jude! HNY K xx
Reviewed by Kate Clifford 1/2/2006
wonderful character descriptions!
Reviewed by Peter Paton 1/2/2006
I agree with Carmen below, this epitomises someone who prostituted
herself for the sake of money and security, and in the process through away her unique individuality and spontaneity !
What a waste !
The song " Where Do You Go To My Lovely " by Peter Sarsdet comes to mind with this exceptional write
Peter
Reviewed by E T Waldron 1/2/2006
Excellent poem beautifully crafted!



Eileen
Reviewed by Ed Matlack 1/2/2006
Good to see you back, lose the muse for few days did ya...? Good stuff...as always, Ed & rufuz
Reviewed by Carole Mathys 1/2/2006
Captivating images within this wonderful piece Jude.
Splendid work...love and peace

Carole
Reviewed by Alex Nodopaka 1/2/2006
Happy New Year.

Very nice imagery. Thanks for sharing.
Reviewed by Sandie Angel 1/2/2006
Beautiful imageries.

Happy New Year!

Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)
Reviewed by Vesna Vanessa 1/2/2006
So as she lies down on her bed
Maneuvering herself to sleep,
The breath of past lifetimes
Covers her body with the vapor of light and stuff

Love this last verse..profoundly beautiful--


Vesna:)
Reviewed by Aberjhani 1/2/2006
Gorgeous portrait painted from the inside out with brilliant spiritual details of a life's journey in progress and the weary traveler herself.
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader) 1/2/2006
Youth is wasted on the young.
So many of us learn the long hard way. But at least some do learn before the fat girl sings.
We choose the chicken coup, or eventually realise that the coup is no place for eagles..
Reviewed by Carmen Ruggero 1/2/2006
Somethings do come late in life, but they don't just happen by wishing; getting there is a lifetime endeavor. This is a very painful analysis of a wasted life.

Carmen :-)
Reviewed by Felix Perry 1/2/2006
This is priceless work of visions and seers and self analysis of the body, heart and soul. Well done my friend. It is good to be back.

Felix
Reviewed by Sherry Heim 1/2/2006
So often we waste our youth on hollow pleasures believing that there will always be time to find and live within our real dreams. Time becomes the enemy and all that remains for us is the fantasy of what we once had and the stark reality that we let our dreams slip silently away leaving us hungry for that which we will now probably never have. Potent write, Jude, your images are intense. I liked the feeling of the vapor, giving the sense that so little remains of that which once was. Happy New Year!
Take care,
Sherry
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 1/2/2006
A truly captivating piece, Jude. Especially liked 'The breath of past lifetimes.'
Reviewed by George Carroll 1/2/2006
There is a bit of lust in us all. This is a delightful read and the last sentence produces great imagery as does the entire poem. Good to see you back, Jude Happy New Year.

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