Despondency breaks off its course.
Anguish breaks off its course.
The vulture breaks off its flight.
The eager light streams out,
even the ghosts take a draught.
And our paintings see daylight,
our red beasts of the ice-age studios.
Everything begins to look around.
We walk in the sun in hundreds.
Each man is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.
The endless ground under us.
The water is shining among the trees.
The lake is a window into the earth.
My personal take when I first read this poem to me was; I think in one aspect it serves to tell us that despondency is like water; where it fills and feels at home within the vessel that holds it so closely guarded. Perhaps in part because despondency may well be for some of us, the last of our feelings we can still manage to feel within the eye of a storm we alone have become and out of an earnest love, we refuse to share it.
I'm the aberrational poet your English teacher warned you not to read or follow into the literary abyss. If you steal my poetry...I will find you in between fogyish metaphoric lines. I'll be armed with my quill and papyrus where at will I can wield my power as a writer to erase you from my realm. I will smudge you with inky darkness and do unprintable things like a ghost in imaginary darkness.
In full disclosure, I am absurdly mad and take no responsibility for my actions if crossed poetically. But, otherwise, I’m a simple free spirited poetic writer wordsmithing outside the grammatical lines and rules. An easy going romantic rebel at heart.
I write meaningful (to me) poetry from my heart and share it here. I tend to approach everyone as a friend until they demonstrate something different. I enjoy having creative exchanges with others, like-minded artists, or writers.
Thank you for reading, commenting and your visit. I appreciate all the feedback (good or bad) you care to offer.
Feel free to reach out by email for private exchanges if you wish.
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In The Beginning Man Tried Ascending To Heaven via The Tower Of Babel. Now He Tries To Elevate His Existence To A Heavenly State of Consciousness Thru The Use Of Hallucinogenic Drugs. And, Since The 20th Century, He Continually Voyages Into Outer Space Using Spacecrafts. Prayer Thru Christ Is The Only Way To Reach Heaven.
3 thoughts on “The Half-Finished heaven”
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Love this line: “Each man is a half-open door.”
Powerful- for such few words.
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