This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2011-10-25 18:17:13 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The World on Fire (Revision)

                                          there's the Holy Ghost in a tree,                                           near that black cat on the thick branch.                                           there's that name that makes things tingle,                                           like a Russian princess, threaded                                           like a camel through the eye of a needle.                                           where your treasure is your heart will never go.                                            who burned my parables, who spilled the milk out of the kitten's dish?                                           every revolution is staged. when did actors become the people?                                           when the littlest thing, when putting out the garbage                                           finds a hunched back silhouette by appointment,                                           and going out for a smoke meets a hazard of moonlight,                                           then you know that something needs to be done.                                           you know it, the Cheshire Cat knows it,                                           the rabbits jump like they heard it.                                            but where are the hands and the pens and the swords to do it? 

Copyright © October 2011 Mark Steven Scheffer

Additional Notes:
A revision prompted by the thoughtful critique of Latorial Faison.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2011-11-07 06:34:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Now I love this! The entire way through. I found myself, this time, looking for those lines that would be deleted, and I couldn't remember what those sharp turns were, but they are not there, and the poem seems wonderfully and perfectly complete (not that in the opinions of others or even your own that it was not before). This is revision and editing true here. Sometimes we can edit a poem to death, but I think that you make some great choices with this poem. It's one of my favorites here this month. It's just so creative, so poetic, so genius. The poem doesn't display too much word play, but it gives off just enough to say a lot about life and say it one of the most profoundly poetic ways. I wish I had written this poem! It's a great poem. WOW! I'm not sure, but it seems to have come easily to you and for you, and that, my friend, is a true gift. Keep sharing.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2011-11-05 12:43:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83333
MSS, I could wax poetic on this metaphor philled phylactery, but I won’t. There is a reason for this. The state of the United States is so on the verge of issueing its last breath, that I try and keep things out of my mind. Not that your piece isn’t scene as a personal reflection on a philosophical pheature- rather I try hard not to ophend even when, (no that’s not me, I am too honest for my own good) maybe not wise, but honest. My only comment on this piece is this- whomever thinks the Cheshire Cat knows it, is naïve. The Cheshire Cat smiles (metaphorically speaking) because it either doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, or is in cahoots with the spilled milk. The eye of the needle (whether the small gate into Jerusalem that a loaded camel could not pass, or a rope being threaded through the actual eye of a needle) is much akin to the “beam in his own eye” – one can be responsible for the good and evil that touches or emits from ones own life- the secret is to expand that zone of influence; and hope and pray for a better result. I think?
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2011-10-29 18:18:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Mark, The world's in trouble and nobody cares 'enough' to do anything. We have been doped and duped into believing we are powerless It's trouble coming in the air. The dark before the storm...... and we do nada......but talk and worry. thoughtful! Dellena
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