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Splendor Splendor Stepping upon earth, discovering sweetness of green growth in spring turning to golden ripeness in fall for harvest. All process here matters, all change hearkens the touch of God or its lacking. Mankind is no less a gem of this working, though he might sometimes set himself apart, at odds with, to speak to himself assuredly. The meanings of life lie in broken hesitations, changing like dim light without more, more than one hand after another brought upon the rope in some magical East India rope trick. Those of severe mind attest little that counts, stumbling upon alley ways drunken upon escape as they would question God's Thoughts of them. Little footprints placed here and there in wait to step to stars, but drinking the dirt of wonder as if it wasn't even a start, a start to stars of burning dirt. While in all things now and things to come, the faces of splendor, our own. Telling us ourselves travail: hate, loss, joy and pain, the way we know We are faulty, stumbling, hasty and sad, but desperately not alone. |
Additional Notes:
Dedicated to C.S. Lewis
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2007-04-24 18:57:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JCH,
Invariably when I read you you trigger some thought on the meaning of poetry, the relation of form to content. Your poems always inspire, I don't know what the right word is, conscience, philosophical speculation . . . ponderings that go to the depths of being, where mind and heart unite. You call to mind a thoughtfulness of how they should unite.
You don't have, for me, the aesthetic "splendors" of MAH, TEW, Rachel, or some others. But you provide a substance that does, indeed, make one think that poetry can matter.
I am mindful that my judgment as to "form" is not infallible. I only offer it by way of being honest with you as to my perceptions.
If part of value in poetry is one's desire to read it and feed on it - and I think it is, as long as the desire is pure and noble, not anti-intellectual or lazy - then your poetry does have a lot of value to me. That may be the final mark of value, a meaning that matters.
MSS