by Debashish Haar
Monday, August 09, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Meet men: weak and strong.
Cry their pain, laugh their laughter.
Live in the streets, in mansions,
in dingiest places, in summer,
in autumn, in winter and in spring.
Think about famine, war, and future,
build new stages, make
new actors, new scripts,
Speak words of hope
to the deaf,
burn fingers and lips to lead
Speak their silver language.
Not just play, but stay, express
in emotions as of two folks,
as of two emotions becoming one.
Be a metaphysician in the dark,
play an instrument, twanging
a wiry string that gives
through fits of righteousness.
Let the mind enter itself,
beneath which it cannot fall,
beyond which it has no will to rise.
Copyright© 2004, Debashish Haar
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|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|The title is so expansive, Debs, and you could have said so much more - yet, this beauty is perfectly weighted: balanced and judged to do what poetry does best = to infer the 7/8 of the "unseen" by careful selection of the "seen". I totally love your final stanza and glorious summation which is a "perfect utterance". You ask a wide-open question to which there is no simple answer - then answer it perfectly. No need to say more (or less!). Well-wrought and finely conceived. xx|
|Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
|Poems are like cartoons, anything can happen. And, fortunately, quite often does. Enjoyed.|