... Have been on the run this week "ambulance chasing" as my 88-year old Mum is in a bit of a poor way... but she is STRONG!! :)) Anyways, here's one I wrote concurrently with Sage's We Built This City write back in December... the warp and weave of the collective consciousness never ceases to amaze me! :)) Be well, people, LOL K xx
SAN MISTICO OR MONKY MAN
Leaving the rest in Narnian chill,
energy gathers to you
like the coming of spring:
like a magnet, you attract;
like a sponge, you blot up;
like a vortex, you draw;
like a mountain, you call.
Like a tidal wave, everything
is swept before you
when you walk into the room.
Air, vision, sound, attention;
colour, time, thought and speech:
all are swallowed in the deep throat
of your appearing –
I'm swimming in a vortex of images and engulfing waves...ooop's hang on it's a sea of Glenfiddich...naw! it's not, I've drunk it all lol.
A superb write dearest Kate, hope your mum is well.
As sleekly refined and precise as these lines are, they strike one's imagination with the force of a tidal wave of creative energy, pulling one joyfully inside the poet's exultant conviction and vision. A tremendous write.
Hey, very mystical Sis Kate. When I read this without the very first line it's even sharper. (Maybe that's because I can't personally relate to Narnian call, but hey . . . it's all in the understanding.) All I know is that anybody should be able to relate to 15 lines following. This is sparkling!
blessin's to you,
cynth'ya
Do you think though it has to do with reincarnation? I live in the Middle Ages and 18th Century more than in today. With those walls and structures in mind when I wrote We Built This City, I had the de ja vu thingie. I was referring to Machu Picchu bringing the limestone poets and sandstone novelists together in collective unconscious. I could actually hear the conversations and smell the sweat of those perspiring bronzed people, especially of our "lead poet." To build a poem as you and I from raw material is strenuous labor in an "impossible place to build a city" is sheer talent. One stairstep at a time, the fabled city of the Children of the Sun, the lost city of the Incas, a retreat for holy women of the Incas. And the flock of green parrots as raucous as you and I Kate!
"Air, vision, sound, attention;
colour, time, thought and speech:
all are swallowed in the deep throat
of your appearing –"
Absolutely breathtaking spin-off from my poem, We Built This City! Whatever it is, Kate, it is important stone/poet work....Thunder peals in the mountains around me--->parrots swirl in the skies, but the condors are gone. With sigh ... ah ... I bid you adieu, Kate. Take care of mum.
Sage
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on January 13, 2006
Bet you say this to all the blokes.
Has the King Saul feel bout it..
Guess it's what's called presence..
Wotsa Monky man.. Am in me bed dying wiv this worlds worse ever flu.
WOE WOE WOE! is me..
A write about mr mystic. Did he leave the Milk Tray?
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on January 13, 2006
This is so superb and well written I enjoyed this read in the morning hours. Sorry about your MUM.....
Absolutely stunning and perceptive write, Kate...I too am rushing around with no time for reading or writing, but I couldn't read this and not tell you that I think this is simply wonderful.
Take care,
Sherry
A positive " Black Hole "of a write Kate, that sucks you in from the beginning, and never lets go of you !
Spellbinding and compelling in the simplest fashion
I am praying for you and your Mum's full recovery from illness and stress !
Peter
Ahhh sweet Kate this is as endearing and passionate as a a write should and could be. You captured the spirit of the presence even if it is only in the eyes of the souls who see the arrival and are enthralled by that sight. Perhaps thought it is the mirror image, gender biased of what you write for you posess the very qualities you discuss here...interesting huh.
From First Love to its destructive end and on to new beginnings, Mary Angela Nangini's poems explore the birth and death of a relationship. The powerful poems are presented in two parts with an introduction to her next book My Ontario Beautiful. (Th
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
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(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Hope your Mum is doing better--I'll put her on my prayer list and double mine for you. :)
Haven't seen you around, been worried about you. Hope YOU'RE okay...
A superb write dearest Kate, hope your mum is well.
Paul;-)
Reindeer
Regis
if you want to light up a room lol
Love & Light,
Joseph
blessin's to you,
cynth'ya
Love Tinka
"Air, vision, sound, attention;
colour, time, thought and speech:
all are swallowed in the deep throat
of your appearing –"
Absolutely breathtaking spin-off from my poem, We Built This City! Whatever it is, Kate, it is important stone/poet work....Thunder peals in the mountains around me--->parrots swirl in the skies, but the condors are gone. With sigh ... ah ... I bid you adieu, Kate. Take care of mum.
Sage
Has the King Saul feel bout it..
Guess it's what's called presence..
Wotsa Monky man.. Am in me bed dying wiv this worlds worse ever flu.
WOE WOE WOE! is me..
A write about mr mystic. Did he leave the Milk Tray?
Take care,
Sherry
Spellbinding and compelling in the simplest fashion
I am praying for you and your Mum's full recovery from illness and stress !
Peter
Hugs,
Pops