The sun would rise over the tarnished gates
Leading to his cottage
And the seas swell above the shores
Onto Gossamer’s Dock
But all he ever wanted
Was to compose an ode to his lost perfection
Perhaps as a remembrance to a uncaring world
Such an extreme yearning for contradiction
Such an impractical feat to consider possible
Yet such an obsession was the source of his life
Little did he care for his surroundings-
All that mattered were the inner stirrings
Riddling his heart
With empty reflections
He desperately wished would spring to life
With color and mystery
Surpassing even the grandest of all his visions
Yet somehow none found their way
Through the windows of his forlorn thoughts
Somehow all he could see was the sandy trail
Leading from his heart to the stormy sea
Where no one would ever know
Or really care
Of the silent verse
Burning inside his secret soul
Our inner passion may be something that we cannot clearly convey to others through our words or even our actions. Perhaps we keep those passions locked in a secret place that we save only for special persons. Even then, we wonder if they will ever know the true essence of who we are. Even if seeds won't grow, we are compelled to sow them; though our most fertile thoughts may never reach fruitation in another man's soul. What we cast out for the world to feed upon may go unnoticed, but like grains of sand, each has it's purpose to the whole of life. This poem burns like a branding iron into the soul of the reader leaving the scar that continues to raise the questions our true purpose and destiny.
Take care,
Sherry
Reviewed by Dan Zuewski (Reader)
Reviewed on August 10, 2005
sometimes you don't see what's really there... both inside and outside... and then sometimes you do... and think it's still not perfection... and when that happens it's your loss and the world's...
The soul may be secret, and contains the silent verse, but never should there be a thought that no one cares. Each and every verse has been silent within before it was transformed into reality, portrayed through the written word. With the birth of each new verse, so shall the clarity of the ode to his lost perfection be revealed. Another masterpiece Jude.
I've felt the same way Ace ... still do sometimes.
But even if our verse is cast to the wind, the sea,
the fire or the earth, it remains a good seed that will
grow in its own time.
Perhaps the soul is the ultimate secret, baffling even ourselves with some unexpected niches within its labyrinthic architecture... yet, at some extremely rare circumstances, there comes a visitor who finds their way right to the core. Could it be that sometimes we let a glow from the "silent verse burning" escape? Exceptionally well written, dear Poet.
Love&Light*
Alexandra*
Hey Jude (LOL...sorry Robert, I couldn't resist). The perfection is always there, you just have to be willing to look at it with a different pair of "what's your perspective" eyes. The trick is to not get too caught up in those billions of varying perceptions. When you do, well, that's when the cynic comes out.
~ Sara
P.S. - I thought I would see if I could marry an image to your words. This is my #1 pick: http://www.visionlightgallery.com/gallery/images/KDI/KDI-0035_im.jpg
From this artist: http://www.visionlightgallery.com/gallery/The_Hidden_P3760C82.cfm
This one made me wonder: http://www.ahealingtouch.biz/secretsoul.htm
your soul is calling and wants expression...your forlorn thoughts.. concern of what others think is a binding to break through...obsessed and desperate are key words...
This powerful poem is fraught with the passions and fears of of the creative mind. Sometimes we just have to express and become immune to the fact that no one cares. We have to write and paint and make music for God alone. This is fantastic as always, Jude.
For me you painted a picture of the highest degree of spirituality a human being can achieve. Seeking to make known the truth of what the soul encompasses, and even with all the words in the world at his command the poet cannot describe the secret in his soul, that is too grand to be explained Heady stuff Jude! A truly splendid poem...
Eileen
Reviewed by Thomas Lanechanger (Reader)
Reviewed on August 8, 2005
Poet, as usual your unique talent and remarkable gift to boldly go where very few fear to tread, is a shinning testament to your outstanding ability, my gifted friend. I have and I am sure that as long as I have breath in me, I shall savor visiting your extraordinary Den. Very often it seems one may become mesmeric by ones surroundings, yet with a gentle nudge one can easily be persuaded to seek and hopefully find solace within the nexus of another days challenge of living life amongst the living. I enjoyed the read, and as always, it is a pleasure to stop by. Thank you for sharing your work, and take good care and do be well.
deeply soul-stirring reflection, Jude. I like to believe that somewhere out there between this world and the next we all do really care and those silent verses burning become a tribute to innocence lost and to the not-so-pure and uncaring world, which after all held us for awhile. thank you for penning this, Dawn
Stirring and haunting write, very introspective if I am not mistaken and makes the reader or at least this reader look back at my own writing and the reason I write. Thanks for making me think,
Wonderfully light and tangible, concrete expression of deep, deep, deeply abstract and illusive cravings. Love the title, Secret Soul, because, for me, this is the nature of the tides of contradiction within ourselves. Perhaps we ultimately seek light and the purity of perfection in the redemption of our own souls - but I believe that this release can only come through spiritual means, which is our essence that is apart from the soulishness of the flesh. I tend to think of our souls as that intangible quality within us that is very much bound up with the flesh; it is a litmus paper for all that we have taken into our lives, whether in mind or body, and documents everything. Since so much trauma and damage is entered upon it, owing to the loss of perfection we experience on our life's journey here, we endlessly look for its cleansing. But I don't think that this is something we can do for ourselves: only spiritual light can do it through a recreation process - actually recreating that perfection within us that "died". Those with a keen seen of spirituality have, perhaps, this undertow of grief knawing away at them daily for what has been lost or damaged. And if the causes of damage are still actively, like creepers, knotting around our feet, it's one step forward before we get dragged ten feet back again! I am not succeeding in encapsulating all that I'm trying to say, but this poem is the microcosm of a massive spiritual and psychological debate, and you have done well to open up both the cause and effect of the subject in one cameo picture. The journey is everything - although we long to arrive - and Damascus can occur at any point along its way, redeeming yesterday, transforming today and completely shifting our perspectives and trajectories for tomorrow. Leah's words about the beauty in both the sandy trail and in the stormy sea are very wise. At least a good comprehension of our own modus vivendi enables us to attempt to work with it and not against it. And I think that people do care, Jude. It's just that most of us are sorrounded by so much damage of our own that the minute that of others' starts to rub salt into our own wounds, then the defences go up! It takes courage to go through life defences-down as then peeps are unnerved by your lack of boundaries. It smacks of insanity - familiar territory to some of us! :)) Seeking this degree of inner resolution is not pathological - it is the ultimate in healing, if pursued its entire course. And I'd better get off to the supermarket and get myself back into the shopping trolley of life before I hijack myself off into hyperspace this early on a Monday morning... Kate xx
Those inner stirrings of silent verse will sooner or later find a way to release themselves, be it on the sandy trail or that stormy sea, and there is much beauty in both places. Be sure to have your pen ready and loaded,..or at least your laptop with you! (smile) (wink) Leah
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Take care,
Sherry
great writing as usual ;)
The soul may be secret, and contains the silent verse, but never should there be a thought that no one cares. Each and every verse has been silent within before it was transformed into reality, portrayed through the written word. With the birth of each new verse, so shall the clarity of the ode to his lost perfection be revealed. Another masterpiece Jude.
warm hugs
Elga
love and peace
But even if our verse is cast to the wind, the sea,
the fire or the earth, it remains a good seed that will
grow in its own time.
Love & Light,
Joseph
Love&Light*
Alexandra*
~ Sara
P.S. - I thought I would see if I could marry an image to your words. This is my #1 pick: http://www.visionlightgallery.com/gallery/images/KDI/KDI-0035_im.jpg
From this artist: http://www.visionlightgallery.com/gallery/The_Hidden_P3760C82.cfm
This one made me wonder: http://www.ahealingtouch.biz/secretsoul.htm
Burning Inside His Her Secret Soul!
TRASK
The silent verse is the one
that always has a pulse though.
I like the way you are expanding your thoughts and writing abilities.
Regardless of what others think.
Often times if they do think, it is with a not to nice agenda..
Love Tinka
peace and love, Carole
Eileen
This is beautiful deep haunting poetry...I loved it!
Felix
Peace,
Carolyn