Kate, the beauty of excellent poetry is its ability to instill and conjure different images and perspectives for each reader. The lines here just seemed so beautifully crafted based on a picture you had in mind of mythical proportions. I, of course loved the romance in this as I see so much romance in everything.

beautiful lines!

Very beautiful poetry.
Hugs from
Kay

Stunned. Yup, as per u, stunned at how easily you find the depth of meaning. Shocked totally shocked at your value for peace and stillness.

Rome is home. Athens?! Who dare. Your white feathers must still be afloat.;)

Cosmically cozy.....:)

If it's Fall this must be ... an apotheosis! A fine blend of resonance with the sense that one has come upon 'home' forever and finally, at long last, known it for the first time. And a cozy cottage built in air it is, with its "bowls of warm air to nest in. I like the sibilance of "sulphurous shine" and love the melodious manner in which it glides so effortlessly into the luxuriant tones of "my marble"... then there are the feathers to assume with its vestigial echoes from Dickinson's hopeful poem. Hope is the thing with feathers, after all! There is so much more to recommend this poem, but especially evocative is the birthing or shall I say relinquishing or releasing image of "frail flesh now casts its nubile shadows, / no longer veiled within clear wings". A quintessential emergence, and the next couplet pulls out an Eastern emphasis on Greece and a Western Emphasis on that other classical influence--Rome... it really is a cradle of civilization, new and old, isn't it? With hints of a new world apotheosis. and the full circle charms wound up image of the nest at the end of an age. Simply marvelous rendering, Kate. You've sculpted a masterpiece here. Enjoyed immensely. Helen thinks it's fine, too!

Oh, and one more thing... I kept getting flashes of a song while contemplating your "above and below....east to...west to..." imagery": It's that old Barry Manilow tune... do you know it: "I been up, down, trying to get the feeling again, all around, trying to get the feeling again!" Seems to fit with the longing for / aching for home this poem creates... and like I said, coming upon it afresh after being there forever, and knowing it for the first time... compelling read.

So sumptuous in sonic brilliance, but honestly you are all angel.
I don't think there's much mortal in you angel Kate.
I'm being serious here.

Happy New Year!!! Blessings,
Christine

I choose to see mostly the twigs and the nest here Kate, always seeing a tree in what you write... anyways, I'm thinking how permanent "home" seems, but in human years, a bird's nest is ephemeral--here today, gone tomorrow, like falling leaves on an otherwise permanent tree. What never changes? The moon and the sun, like clockwork.

Lady Moon with her marble skin rises on Athens as the sulphurous, shining Sun sets on Rome. He falls out of sight until morning, when she is gone from view. Talk about your unrequited love! They meet in the middle and prepare to build their nest of cloudy haze, but poor Lady Moon, though donning her nebulous veil, is but a shadow at midday, and yellow-barrell-chested Sun has left the altar (again). She's just saying, "I do" as he says "Adieu". Only you could wrap that all up with the image of a tree. --Charlie

A HEAVENLY PIECE KATE
ENJOYED IT'S METHOLOGY EXPERIENCE
LOVE & PEACE BE WITH YOU

wILLIAM

somehow this one got past me :(

yes, we are still in-between the heavenly and worldly perspectives ... in our effort to do so, we pause not to fall too far, reassesses our direction and "stray twigs and leaves of sunset/
sculpt bright vestiges of home" ... i luv your perspective and approach ... powerful imagery as well as spiritually provoking content ... may your poetic feathers keep you soaring ...

the poet sees through apprearances here
and gently nudges illusions to rightful margin;
for me, too, a stir of 'send in the clowns' that
midair image, that trick of fate and circumstance,
that hard reality;
this is fine, Great Kate, truly fine

john

Beautiful control here, Dear Kate. You have created an experience of great depth with such few carefully selected words. The images are of such proportion they both humble and inspire the reader. Reading this is like being a wall flower observing the gods. You place the reader in a very desirable position. And those last two lines are to die for.

Kate,
Stunning poetry! I love this stanza:

I lean east to rise on Athens;
you tilt west to set on Rome.

The Gods would approve!!!

Much peace, love and light,
Amber

The first time I read this poem, I thought of the way we see our parents, when we no longer idealize them and yet... they're still somewhere in between, mere mortals, and immortalized introjects. Then I thought love also makes us feel this way, until that feeling of being inseparable and immortal gradually adapts to reality. But what becomes when we loose our gods to reality? We keep seeking for meaning and transcendence, even in all the wrong places! You made me think, dear Kate... and maybe the two half immortal, half human beings are going through something that we all go through...



Axilea

This speaks of the machinery of the universe, of those things that underlie the (spiritual) forces of the moon and the sun; of the duality of nature and opposing poles of force. It also reminds me somewhat of the Thaumiel, the divided shadows of unity, each of its two heads ever at war and which merely by being, rebels against its own existence though it knows this not. Even the darkness longs for home...

I am impressed. I wonder how many hours you must spend at "sculpting" such perfection. I am grateful that you share your gift, milady Kate. Love, respect, and best wishes to you,

Regis

this is interesting after your pre-birth poem. This is a birth. This blending of hard and soft and clarity and shadow. The inbetween, a realm all yours and yours alone. the safety net that catches. The quietude. It's beautiful really. A melding, a comingle that fits together as a whole.....like this Kate.

"But there, mid-air, mid-way
between immortal and mere human,"

That, dear Kate is the place we all poets dwell.

Walt

Kate, I have read this a few times and find intrigue with the premise. Two individuals pondering fate and mortality. "But there, mid-air, mid-way between immortal and mere human". It is your last stanza that sets my mind whirling with questions and excitement. Are your two characters merely statues? I love this rendering and will read again and again as the root of your intent teases my imagination delightfully. A piece for my library. Can't let this one get awy from me. I wish you love and peace my dear friend. Jon Michael

The in-between is a place of threshold and balance. A beautiful write!

Peace,
Dayvid

For this secular humanist, you have penned a clustering of images that relies not on any dogma, secular or religious, but asks the reader to accept Mother Nature and the cosmos as matter in transition. In the case of of Fall of the Gods, there is an ancient wisdom seeking redemption from the twisted way so many humans choose to to play-act their so-called "spiritual" side. Every line here is fitted with perfectly chosen words and ideas, hearkening back to to the irony of Plato and Socrates with differences, yet seeking the same end. Then you change trajectory, offering an existential swerve, if you will, to what could be accepted as one of the many alternative thoughts Camus offered in his asking us to make a reality for ourselves that would neuter a defeatist attitude...allowing one to believe life can be worth while, but we must make it so, as in your: "But there, mid-air, mid-way between immortal and mere human,..." the "stray twigs and leaves of sunset sculpt bright vestiges of home." So many believe they know home, so few are willing to experience it beyond societal dogma. A brilliant piece of poetry...at least for this student.

I am confused, although I know I should put the words together, they are failing me.

U sure u never did drugs...sounds like an acid trip or flashback to me...;-)
e

a deffinately historical visionof the myths
budd

Ah, in other words, Kate, Ne'er the twain shall meet . . . Except for THIS time, because the stray twigs and leaves borne out of the sun . . . therein lies home sweet home. That's my take and I'm sticking by it. Heh.Heh.