You stand in front of the TV
Mesmerized by the static
Of a video that finished an hour ago
And you believed you were looking into your mind
While dreaming of some Pindaric poetic paradise
Where your wandering soul
Gazed into unknown possibilities
Running across the fabric of unforeseen feelings
You picked up a telephone
Wanting to call someone, anyone
But you couldn’t remember
Who to call
So you spoke to the emptiness
Of your beleaguered soul
You listened to the echo
Bouncing off the crevasse
Of your metaphysical meanderings
Through the corridors and hallways
Of your hallowed home
Where you knew your were really alone
Yet surrounded by the dreams of tomorrow
And the contours of an undeniable dilemma
Left you seeking more and more
For now you found yourself
Looking into the depths of a broken mirror
You discarded in your basement some years ago
And remembered that your were always inside yourself
While living in the exterior of your heart’s shattered embrace
been through it all Robert, this poem really takes me there, it's great to arrive at true self, no matter how shattered or together,
I think most people run because of the image they might see, especially negative. Negative is only positive wanting to get out so the whole can survive in light. No ones all negative and no ones all positive. My wife jumps me about saying negative sometimes but I use negative to keep from being in wonderland, taking life for granted. At age 55 there's no more taking life for granted. If I'm lucky I might have 10 more real good years left. One of my classmates died at age 55, here today gone tomorrow. When I say I could be dead tomorrow to my wife, it's a reminder to get out and live or don't waste time on foolishness like unecessary anger and stupidity
If I would venture a guess, Alzheimer’s, or perhaps, the distraction of a concentrating poet. Penetrating, to say the least, Jude.
Ron
Reviewed by Richard Christopher Suarez (Reader)
Reviewed on September 12, 2005
Jude, You are as an ardent lover secure in his position and as I read this I felt I could hear you speaking these severe sentiments and feelings of all and nothing and what is now and it's so really
intense!
peace',
Rich Criso Suarez
Jude, whenever one cannot find the shards of life, one often searches through the “corridors and hallways” of one’s soul. Outstanding composition which strikes at the very foundation of being alive while living in a tattered shell. Thanks for sharing it. Take good care and be well.
you got it, undeniable dilemma, metaphysical meanderings, ehcoes hallowed home, broken mirror and all. such shards of truth laid out so plainly require further contemplation before I can offer a response with any proper perspective, Jude. weave us another poem with the strands of truth and love and light you pluck from the sky so easily and let the stars sprinkle down the thanks that doesn't touch the grandeur of your gift, Dawn
Jude this is immense. I can totally get into this one as I have been there and felt those exact same feelings but you my friend were able to capture and put to pen. Well written and great piece of yourself.
"Heart's shattered embrace" just about - but only just! - covers this one, Jude. As Eileen says, how you manage such poetic "lightness and delicacy of voice and tone" whilst plumbing such indescribable depths is truly amazing. Yet those depths have reached out, reached in and placed their fingers on the tender spots of the hearts and minds of each one of us, probing them with recognition. This is fascinating; I read this a couple of hours' ago and was totally wrapped in the long, lonely dark night of the soul. Now, reading it again, the lightness of tone puts a wholly different complexion on it, almost as if that fractured mirror was mystically calling "you" to return and recover the pieces to rediscover its sparkle and shine afresh: like it has suddenly become some compelling repieced-together glitter ball that, once uncovered, would be demanding to be brought into the light where it could be blinding in its potential to radiate and dazzle. Basically, representing the reconciliation of a penetrating former vision. I am going to have to stop, cos I can see this turning into an unwieldy thesis on life, the universe and everything. For me, it is the "undeniable dilemma" that is the turn here: we can become so used to inner solitude, which stirs up the ability for us to be "light bearers" while not allowing ourselves into that place where we both need and yearn for that same light to impact our own lives, bringing the change and resurrection that the "deadened" parts of us so need. We can be so caught up in the endless hypothesising, the ability to "see things in the whole round" that we become comfortable with our own soulish deprivations - almost stoic and monk-like, actually. When, all along, our real call to life, the fundamental vision of who and what we are that caused us to be dreamers in the first place, is waiting to be reborn and to be fulfilled and glorified in us, through us and FOR us - notwithstanding the reasons for it having been smashed and buried in the first place. I think it is not unusual for the BIG vision, the major plan, of what we started out with to be trampled underfoot and discarded at some point, when the nitty gritty of the detail starts to erode the focus. But then, WHAM!! Come the right day, the right hour, back it comes - and what a return! Better than Return of the King, I reckon... blimey, I started this on Monday morning... it must be Friday afternoon again by now... goody... could do with a with a break! PS This is only one of about 10 versions of a response that I have come up with in the last 20 mins and not the one I started out with; do you want me to send you the book?! :)) Good job you don't have me on the end of a phone... LOL Koncise Kate xx
And remembered that your were always inside yourself
While living in the exterior of your heart’s shattered embrace
Deep feelings on human concerns. Excellent poetry
Robert, why is it when I read your work that I become mesmerized? And why is it that when I shift between lines, it is if I am shifting between planes of a different reality? Yet even more perplexing is that I recognize myself within the prose of the shattered mirror. Just outstanding poetry.
This sounds to me like someone who was dealt a stunning blow,
becoming unsure of who they are, having to search the past
for recognition. A sad state of affairs,that needs the light
to suffuse and elevate it to restoration.Superb poetry.
I don't know how you manage such intense subject matters and
keep such a beautiful poetic flow. Eileen
Hmmm. This poem seems like someone whom you thought you knew, turned out to be something other than what you had believed them to be. Your words ring out like a spark of clarity that has taken you from a time when you believed this person had some depth, insight and character to a place where you found out that they were not only self-centered, delusional and unevolved, but also that they were incapable of loving, even themselves. This situation can be a sorry trap, because, like Don Quoxite, no one really wants to see themselves in the mirror of reality. Excellent poem with lots of intense images and food for thought.
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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I think most people run because of the image they might see, especially negative. Negative is only positive wanting to get out so the whole can survive in light. No ones all negative and no ones all positive. My wife jumps me about saying negative sometimes but I use negative to keep from being in wonderland, taking life for granted. At age 55 there's no more taking life for granted. If I'm lucky I might have 10 more real good years left. One of my classmates died at age 55, here today gone tomorrow. When I say I could be dead tomorrow to my wife, it's a reminder to get out and live or don't waste time on foolishness like unecessary anger and stupidity
Ron
intense!
peace',
Rich Criso Suarez
This line says it all. A profound, powerful write!
peace and love, Carole
Truly profound and touching.
Felix
Caught in one concise poem..
While living in the exterior of your heart’s shattered embrace
Deep feelings on human concerns. Excellent poetry
Reindeer
Love Tinka
Allen
becoming unsure of who they are, having to search the past
for recognition. A sad state of affairs,that needs the light
to suffuse and elevate it to restoration.Superb poetry.
I don't know how you manage such intense subject matters and
keep such a beautiful poetic flow. Eileen
Looking into the depths of a broken mirror
You discarded in your basement some years ago"
A very powerful statement. Great study of a person I can actually see and somewhat understand. Good work.
Carmen :-)
Take care,
Sherry