The beauty of purpose
imposed itself on a rainy day,
a ray impressed on the white window
like a forehead on cold glass
pressed in times of doubt and hesitation
when collision lost its effect like some old electric shock -
vibrations slowly left the skin and muscles -
and a new language was found
The beauty of purpose
met her in an unexpected place
it could be the warehouse
of worn-out thoughts and greasy attempts
it could be
While sinful house
you need to build -
expensive cage that puts your deeds
in a defined place -
The walls won’t last
the windows will break
and soon dust will settle, but
you need that place
where you can store
your sinful deeds
don’t you?
The label’s ready
just throw the old name away
and put instead your definition
crossdress the name of guilt
let your label be
…your hi-tech epitaph?
It happened on a day bright as the night
and the exact location is easy to remember
its description is as follows:
irrigated, fertile land
chemically resourceful
dazzling landscape
of winding whiteness
under hemispheric pressure…
a true language was found
Wipe away
the blurring sadness
forget the ancient language
of command
of years that are long gone
let the irresponsible behavior
be their privilege and their grave,
the beauty of her purpose
carried her out of the rainiest day.
This is superb.Your poems are always interesting and beautiful,take care
Edwin
Reviewed by EDWARD HAMBLIN (Reader)
Reviewed on February 8, 2009
A daring feat of writing here,,, a code like message for the unaware,,
be their privilege and their grave
the beauty of her purpose
carried her out of the rainiest of days. pure genious! thank you for this write.
Ed
You've woven a tapestry of words with each of us drawing our own meaning/warmth/enlightenment. Magnificent artistry though I have barely mastered crayolas :)! Applause.
This is a fascinating and two-tone write which gets more multi-faceted the more you read it... and you want to read it several times because each time you see a new corner or layer. You are so very gifted, Axilea. And such a skilled writer who always does the needful thing in writing: that is, NOT to spoonfeed the reader or to direct an interpretation, but let each reader draw their own. As Jude says, much psychological drama here, and a real thriller. I hear two voices, one quite cold and the other very warm yet resiliant and focussed. Your last two lines are real meat and food of inspiration. Bless you, your writing is always a treasure store and a pyramid of great plunder. :)) xx
Her purpose is for her alone, just as ours is for us to find and handle alone too. A purpose in life for all and we must try to find it and a abide by it an take it on to our final days to glory.
Brilliant ideas, brilliantly rendered. However, I am having trouble interpreting the third stanza. Seems to me that it is crucial -- a bridge, so to speak --, but the structure is shaky. Something is missing, or the syntax is off? Don't know. Is it possible that
you meant to write "W h o l e sinful house-??" Or is it that you feel the [ware-]houseful of worn-out thoughts and greasy attempts should be torn down and replaced by [an?]expensive cage in which to store etc.? I have this feeling that a couple more words and-or
changing one or two would make the poem a 10+. I like a bit of mystery, but here it seems unintended. Am I being obtuse? Wouldn't doubt it. This is a wonderfully thought-provoking poem -- a poet's poem --, or I wouldn't go on this way. Thank you, Axilea. This is fascinating~!! <3 'Pea' <3
Reviewed by S H (Reader)
Reviewed on January 7, 2009
The writing looks nice, but the meaning seems to deep for me. I can admit it LOL!
You, Axilea, are indeed a poet's poet. So much to experience,
from line to line: the repetition of sounds that Charlie expressed
so well...and the wonderful alliteration throughout, but most
notably in the fourth stanza:
The walls won’t last
the windows will break
and soon dust will settle, but
you need that place
where you can store
your sinful deeds
don’t you?
I love (I mean really love)the repetition of sounds in this, Axilea... "purpose"..."imposed"..."impressed"..."pressed"; "collision"..."lost"..."like... "old electric"... and it just goes on like that, melting in the liquidity of sound. I love it when a writer knows about the fluidity of sounds, and uses them. My mouth is bathing in the stuff.
This line is particularly effective: "it happened on a day as bright as the night"
Just before Christmas, my daughter and I finished reading "Brissinger" from the Inheritence series. Ancient languages, and true names, according to Christopher Paolini, wield powerful magic--the kind that can destroy or bless--the kind that are hard to control unless the exact pronunciation is mouthed--the kind that only true elves or dragon riders and other magical creatures should ever attempt using. (I guess that excludes me...) Anyways, I love the home built in your poem for some of the ancient, sin-words. As Longfellow says, "Let the dead past bury its dead!" ...and an old folksong:"Dig a hole, dig a hole....for my darlin'. Dig a hole in the cold, cold ground."
Sorry this review is so piece-meal. Kindred soul-you will be able to figure it out. I have no doubt. --Charlie
Wipe away
the blurring sadness
forget the ancient language
of command
of years that are long gone
let the irresponsible behavior
be their privilege and their grave,
the beauty of her purpose
carried her out of the rainiest day.
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The reader with interest learns The beauty of purpose...
Edwin
be their privilege and their grave
the beauty of her purpose
carried her out of the rainiest of days. pure genious! thank you for this write.
Ed
Sandy
you meant to write "W h o l e sinful house-??" Or is it that you feel the [ware-]houseful of worn-out thoughts and greasy attempts should be torn down and replaced by [an?]expensive cage in which to store etc.? I have this feeling that a couple more words and-or
changing one or two would make the poem a 10+. I like a bit of mystery, but here it seems unintended. Am I being obtuse? Wouldn't doubt it. This is a wonderfully thought-provoking poem -- a poet's poem --, or I wouldn't go on this way. Thank you, Axilea. This is fascinating~!! <3 'Pea' <3
Ron
from line to line: the repetition of sounds that Charlie expressed
so well...and the wonderful alliteration throughout, but most
notably in the fourth stanza:
The walls won’t last
the windows will break
and soon dust will settle, but
you need that place
where you can store
your sinful deeds
don’t you?
-gene.
Cryssa
Love this:
'the beauty of her purpose
carried her out of the rainiest day'
Awesome!
hugs
fee
This line is particularly effective: "it happened on a day as bright as the night"
Just before Christmas, my daughter and I finished reading "Brissinger" from the Inheritence series. Ancient languages, and true names, according to Christopher Paolini, wield powerful magic--the kind that can destroy or bless--the kind that are hard to control unless the exact pronunciation is mouthed--the kind that only true elves or dragon riders and other magical creatures should ever attempt using. (I guess that excludes me...) Anyways, I love the home built in your poem for some of the ancient, sin-words. As Longfellow says, "Let the dead past bury its dead!" ...and an old folksong:"Dig a hole, dig a hole....for my darlin'. Dig a hole in the cold, cold ground."
Sorry this review is so piece-meal. Kindred soul-you will be able to figure it out. I have no doubt. --Charlie
the blurring sadness
forget the ancient language
of command
of years that are long gone
let the irresponsible behavior
be their privilege and their grave,
the beauty of her purpose
carried her out of the rainiest day.
Clap clap clap....excellent!!
Be always safe,
Karen