Night sings a silence
that is quiet
as the depths of wool
and white as spilt innocence.
It’s the song of the octopus,
his grand intelligence
frustrated behind glass,
stealing suckered kisses
from passing children
pausing to offer
regretful pressed palms.
It’s the smothered tune of burning,
the scented sounds of forests,
severed branches
and dismembered trunks
waving SOS semaphore
to an all-seeing sky.
Darkness hangs its head
dumbfounded,
its mourning the colour of ink
spilled on luxuriant bleached papers
by lily-white hands sanctioning
unsustainable wars for greed.
The gold of man has become black;
even the heavens fear
its last coin will be spent.
Sadly I must agree. Not only have we the human race saddened our God and all of Heaven, but the earth itself, our temporary home.
Nicely written and food for thought Kate.
XX *Glen*
I love the blend of images in this poem. Innocence portrayed in the childrens eyes seeing the ink of the octopus locked behind manmade glass, while beautiful forest are pilfered of its beauty by the neverending inkstains of oiled wars.
when the gold of the human heart transmutes into dark lead of collective reasoning, mankind's tarnished sense of being will run amok and will count only coins of madness ...
Exceptional work here Kate, one can almost find themselves within your thoughts, while the very essence of mankind is busy burying themselves life also seeks to understand it's caged existence. There are not many who can even attempt to find logic behind reason, and yet the frustration of an octopus sings to us the reality of who we truly are...only time will bring forth what we all wish for...the new Kingdom where all is ...Love...Peace...
There is something revelatory here, something that seeps slowly from the soul of melancholy into the heart of the reader. I also see a superbly balanced juxtapose between someones yearning for what has not as yet been realized, and the unstoppable degradation of the world system. You are a gifted woman KB!
Light and Wisdom ...
Precious and dear as the plight of sea creatures for greed. I have a place where I go to help this planet. It's call Care 2. Please go here and give them a look. They initiate petitions for our environment and you can get on their list. I like being able to do something about here where I live...and the world.
From first stanza to last, I was totally drawn in by your images that formed visual solids in my minds eye......this is both poetic and timely in message and spirit, so many lines are poetry in themselves......you can write!!!! pax A
Kate, loved the metaphors, images, and the last verse is fantastic!
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on January 22, 2008
love the personification of iamgery. . it d.rips and creates sucha pwoerful presence. . . solitude permeating as mourning echos morning. . . .ink-f.illed and ominous. .
this is near prophetic in its ending. . .an anticlimactic climax, where power is [s]t----ripped up. .. and we are left within and without. . .egads, how we use every.thing for our own glories.
absolutely sublime in style and syntax and saidmessage. ..
gorgeous piece; ;;; ;;
> <
nessie
This poem is perfection. I love it. I love the consonantal echoes, and the euphony of soft sounds blending together. Your opening lines are my absolute favorite:
Night sings a silence
that is quiet
as the depths of wool
and white as spilt innocence.
I love the repeated "s" and "w". I love, love that I can hear that "w" sound in quiet, and that it works so well with (I'm alliterating) "wool" and "white." And there's that "n-l" combo sneaking in between sounds that just makes beautiful music. I'm such a sucker for omoioteleton-- love this piece. --Charlie
Such sadness from your pen this evening ... powefully penned. It's not all doom and gloom, though. As long as poets pick up a pen, there can be sunshine amidst the despair. I hope, for Man's sake, we find it. Well done.
...much light is penned...within the darkness of these words. Perhaps the last breath taken...a memoriam in passing...heard in your poetic thoughts Kate.
Excellent...
John
First Edition Translation of Teselas by Carmen Crespo X111 César Simón Poetry Prixe 2016 Translated from Spanish by Robin Ouzman Hislop and Amparo Arrospíde
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Nicely written and food for thought Kate.
XX *Glen*
Walt
The notes have long-past gone
While silence fills the theatre
With the voice of forsakened dawn.
~Joseph*, 2008
You've inspired me Kate!
Love & Light always and in all ways,
Joseph*
Always in awe of your insight, wisdom and poetry...
potent poetry, Kate ...
truly nice work...
Art Sun...
Light and Wisdom ...
Love Tinka
Carole~
Christine
Truly a sad piece, but we
cannot run from the truth.
Love, Susan
www.care2.com
The silence is definitely, not golden. The eyes become blind and the ears deaf. Peace, Love and Blessings Always, Paul.
this is near prophetic in its ending. . .an anticlimactic climax, where power is [s]t----ripped up. .. and we are left within and without. . .egads, how we use every.thing for our own glories.
absolutely sublime in style and syntax and saidmessage. ..
gorgeous piece; ;;; ;;
> <
nessie
Night sings a silence
that is quiet
as the depths of wool
and white as spilt innocence.
I love the repeated "s" and "w". I love, love that I can hear that "w" sound in quiet, and that it works so well with (I'm alliterating) "wool" and "white." And there's that "n-l" combo sneaking in between sounds that just makes beautiful music. I'm such a sucker for omoioteleton-- love this piece. --Charlie
Such sadness from your pen this evening ... powefully penned. It's not all doom and gloom, though. As long as poets pick up a pen, there can be sunshine amidst the despair. I hope, for Man's sake, we find it. Well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Excellent...
John
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D