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Rodney Evan Bohen

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Time Racing the Moon
by Rodney Evan Bohen

Sunday, April 06, 2003

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Recent poems by Rodney Evan Bohen
•  Forever And a Day
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           >> View all 104

what is it about poetry, that
so embarrasses my very
soul?


Time Racing the Moon

Last poem etched, when he stood
sixteen in times' grasp,
for the words told too much
the mirror pierced his armor
too deeply
armor already shiny and strong,
and nurtured by painful time
the fire of the parchment stood
ablazed in truth, both telling and
tall
for it unraveled his sadness
too open! Too tall!
It seemed but a little thing
this betrayal of pen
though mantle slept never
but lay dormant instead,
for yes, seasons
long
did she ride
residing upon the bottom
region in hollow soul
awakened long years after,
bridge fast crossing to
next
Stunned and bewildered in
childlike form stood he
when his lover returned
with the mantle unblemished
after decades in store
in reluctance he now trembled
once remembering the pain,
that the mantle and pen
had left in inked stain
as he was lost in the moment,
he felt the touch of the robe
he remembered the shiny true
stories that the parchment
had told
he recalled in the sunlight now
standing dim darkly lit
the exquisite exhale of heart
words,
that once his heart wept
that once painted parchment
in birthed virgin tones lit
he missed her, the parchment,
his colored safe haven of then
the place where all knew him
dressed in complete solitude,
he knew in sparked instant
the passions' cry from his
heart
demanding yes demanding,
the moment be redeemed
so in hand full of trembling,
he clutched pen to his breast
and he touched it to parchment
as a sweet, warm soft kiss
his eyes filled to brim
when he saw heart fall from ink,
he knew in a firefly sparked
moment
he was heart woven once more.
the demons that thwart
do no real harm this day
for the pen is clutched
close to heart
where forever it shall
stay
for when ink meets the
parchment
fear stands there no
more.
He stood bashful then
when age called him sixteen
as he stands bashful now
much more seasoned in times
earthen mold
what is it about poetry, that
so embarrasses my very
soul?
For there be no greater secrets,
than the utterances
of my whispered essence






Rodney Evan Bohen
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Reviewed by Malachy MacFarlane (Reader) 4/10/2003
To this day when someone asks me what I like to do and I answer "I like to write" I dread the next question; "what do you write?"

Is it that poetry opens the soul like no other? Does opening myself in that way in some way unman me, unmake me? Vulnerability is not always pleasant and the very act of purging our inner sanctum for the the greedy eye of others leaves us so very vulnerable.

All that and yet I also find the command of words, the ability to direct someone to think in the way I want them to, so empowering.

The paradox of our art, seannachie, is that it strengthens us by tearing us down, it builds courage by exposing our greatest fear; self recognition. Mal.
Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader) 4/7/2003
Profoundly beautiful!
Reviewed by Trish - The Trickster 4/7/2003
The poet speaks...very well indeed. Blocked time left behind. Excellent write.
Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU 4/7/2003
"Time Racing the Moon"... in days of yore

and today's questions only SELENE could

answer, for part of the subjects are under

Her Jurisdiction, or we can ask Phoebus and

Erato to respond and clarify the matter now.

"Time Racing the Moon" is inspiring,

striking and teaching... It etches its

mensage in the mind of imagination and

activates intuition reminiscing emotions of yore.

I Salute the Author of "Time Racing the Moon".

Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU

Reviewed by Zenith Elliott 4/6/2003
Beautiful...it touches the soul. Z
Reviewed by jude forese 4/6/2003
poet, i can hear... excellent!
Reviewed by coni lea harris (Reader) 4/6/2003
and, time seasons us. Seems we're always chasing time, trying to catch up on time, with time, but somehow it always seems to win the race. But, with time, we have moonshine to glow in,,,
Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader) 4/6/2003
Don't know why either...well done poetry.
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