varying aspects of perceptual experience…
It happens often, when, after
Thinking you finally understand, and,
After trusting your insights are pregnant
With keen insight meaning and metaphor,
That you chance finally to reach out & look into
Another’s mirror only to recoil aghast at
What you see reflected:
“That’s NOT who I am,” you fidget
“It’s how we see you,” the mirror simpers
Aghast you ruffle fluff and flounce,
Trying to find a more appropriate
Angle to view the wrongful
Unsure (now) about how you’re being seen,
Unsure (now) about being accepted,
Unsure about being respected,
Unsure, too, about,
Now.... In fear,
Desperation, or both, a
Surge of indignation conjures up
Ways to sublimate the vinegar of perception,
To make the world’s carnival view of you more palatable,
Because you know deep inside that the individual
You’ve become makes (at least) some sense
To you so why shouldn’t it to everyone else....
But a sound mind
This ruck and muckle,
From the gossip of imbeciles,
From the jaded misinterpretations,
From the chains being relevant impute,
From the naysayers relentless stare and blab
As one clambers struggling through many rigors of
The storm in search of hitherto unspoken,
Unwritten, singularly satisfying
Something’s another soul
While all the while
Clearly understanding that
Individualism is not a path for the rickety,
And that strength of character is loath to the sapless,
And that deep abiding joy is as fickle as Alaskan weather,
(But it still bubbles up when you least expect it)
In time, the idea that ALL
Are exceedingly sincere in their views,
And that success and acceptance from others
Fail as the only requisites for the journey,
There must be peace within,
There must be strength,
There must be gifts,
There must be obedience,
There must be resolve, and focus, and
Clear comprehension of the Creators love, and how,
In relationship with Him, an unflagging determination is given
That rises up and resounds more genuinely than the unappeasable
Drivel of mainstream pabulum…
richard lloyd cederberg
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|Reviewed by Margaret Blake
|Hello Richard - or is that richard ...I find this poem interesting in the fact that with or without this apparatus we still see our physical being as some sort of mistake, a distortion of angles, an abhorition of genetics. The carnival mirror makes us laugh ... it is such a pity that a regular mirror does not. (I have to admit ... mine does ... every morning :-)|
|Reviewed by Diana Legun
|I've had this piece of poetry on my mind for nearly a week now. It deserves the attention one gives an exquisite bottle of wine, including all the uppermost language in describing the experience of the sip. So: In this poem I first taste a uniqueness of spice not of pedestrian vine. The sharp notes of "ruck and muckle" sparkle, rather than cut, and are overlayed with tones of mellowness in "ruffle fluff and flounce", then given a gingerly twist with "wrongful/Deformations", and rolled into undercurrents of "unappeasable/Drivel of mainstream pabulum..." I sense a hint of brightness in the joy that "(...bubbles up when you least expect it), and conclude the brawn of this poem brings out the Bold "....strength of character is loath to the sapless,". This poem captures me fully, and the greatness is not only the message, but presentation, origination, language, treatment, and the interjection of solemnity and frivolity. I love it. ~~ Diana|
|Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather
|it is a carnival of mirrors r , be easier not to look! MM|
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|What you see is not what you get, or even deserve. It's what's inside you that carries you through, no matter how you are reflected in the painful mirror of life. Why rely on the “other” when you have the poetic talent and courage to face the mirror yourself.
|Reviewed by Douglas Bentley
|Your an oasis in the desert.
a fresh cooling breeze
"Clear Comprehension" I like that.
|Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger
Clear comprehension of the Creators love.
The carnival mirror is a great creative scenario.
Brilliant and genuinely focused gift.
Lady Mary Ann
|Reviewed by Odin Roark
|Formatted like the edge of a serrated knife, these reflections suggest the inevitable for anyone conscious: honesty never promises to be gentle. As your poem so adroitly suggests, the journey to truly know and accept the essence of self is fraught with doubt and distraction by placing too much focus on the quest for veneration and love of others. Condensation on such a mirror is only the result of the cold outer meeting the warmth of the inner's struggle. Beautifully rendered.|