I remember nothing of my birth,
nothing.
Can you believe it?
And they keep pretending
that I was there,
forgetting that it was all about me,
after all,
wasn’t it?
Shhh_ _
The justice of men
is so imperfect,
- we know it -
look for prayers written on stones instead,
look, for a lifetime.
Noise fills the space
as a flight from mortality
and while vulnera doloris
are buried under decibels,
the very stuff of our dreams
is left on a road to asphyxiate.
Shhh__
I’d rather walk those miles alone,
I’m not afraid of scorched knees
and silence is the only eternity,
why are they so scared?
I’ll remember nothing of my death,
nothing!
Between that second
When one gets loose from hesitation
and the sudden shattering of glass,
frozen collapse, multiple reflection(s),
Between two non-moments are
[intoxicating injection of reality,
visions that go right to the mind,
wind of being that teases the skin].
There is life,
in between
and I still remember nothing
of my death.
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Reviews of "Vetri Frantumati (I remember nothing...)"
Between two non-moments are
[intoxicating injection of reality,
visions that go right to the mind,
wind of being that teases the skin].
There is life,
in between
and I still remember nothing
of my death.
You always build your poems with such strong gestalt, Axilea. There's always very strong bones to your work which you dress with care and acute contemplation. This is a fascinating piece, as we have come to expect from you. An X-ray of the substance of life and living. What lies between the opening and shutting of a door between rooms unrecognised or unremembered. TY Kate xx
I don't remember my first birth, but I do remember my second and my third. And I can vaguely remember the first time I died and went to heaven, but everything's clear after that. As a matter of fact, I think I can recall all of my deaths so far, just not that last one... I think I died again rereading this poem...or was that yet another birth (I get so mixed up sometimes--how embarrassing, I could just die...) Oops, there I go again... :0) --Charlie
Reincarnation comes to the surface here...and selective memory summons total recall from a past life...mind corridors frame the DNA welded into fragmented interlocking long-ago memories...most often, something traumatic jars the memory into producing photographic memory, Axilea...delving into it through poetry opens up the time-frame of the spiritual labyrinthe of which you ventured through at one time in long-agos maze of prey and predator...
I take great pleasure in watching an artist at work. I'll save this to read again and again, Axilea, and know that it's what happens
between birth and death that we live for. -gene.
You continue to grow in sophistication and control. Your work is worthy of intellectual respect, quite apart from the pleasure it brings. Outstanding work.
No, you are right. You don't remember anything. I don't know who I was in my past life. What have I done? Ha! But there are some people who pretend to know everything. In my opinion that is just pathetic!!!
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
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vivid and riveting ...
[intoxicating injection of reality,
visions that go right to the mind,
wind of being that teases the skin].
There is life,
in between
and I still remember nothing
of my death.
You always build your poems with such strong gestalt, Axilea. There's always very strong bones to your work which you dress with care and acute contemplation. This is a fascinating piece, as we have come to expect from you. An X-ray of the substance of life and living. What lies between the opening and shutting of a door between rooms unrecognised or unremembered. TY Kate xx
I truly enjoyed reading your intellectual thoughts
love & peace be with you
William
Love,
Sage
Be always safe,
Karen
fee
I wish I could read this with ease, the font's just too small for my weak eyes.
John
between birth and death that we live for. -gene.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Stimulating poem,axilea
et
stan
Sandie Angel :o)