way I see it a poet

[revolutionrabbit]

Poetry was here before anyone wrote it down
and it will be here way after the last word is

the poet is not always free to say it
in the course of things, the poet
sees what they refuse to see

It may not have always been this way
language was free to wander like the stars
free to talk what the breeze saw
the words like leaves

falling with each sigh
so then each cry of the world
came like a flow of rain drops

poetry was everywhere
so it did not have to be written down
but it found its style in the first voice
that rose from the elements

revolutions, histories, the stories rode
great visions heaved from the bosom
of the galloping mountains

cities screamed out of the abyss
and the lines were dawn in the sand of time
the words now wore black jackets
had serious looks, and dared to speak to the truth

long ago, truth held all the mysteries
but know it is but a mere drunk in the shadows
drunk on words that no longer hold up to the light

[hester_prynne]

"....drunk in the shadows"....

I find that image to be very comforting and warm.

"the words now wore black jackets
had serious looks, and dared to speak to the truth"

Direct/Indirect.
Simply fantastic.
H

[revolutionrabbit]

as a metaphor we have to realize that poetry comes out of the natural world.Yet we also have to realize that we have to disorder the senses, in order to be able to allow the words, the drunk words to speak through us.In other words language makes us drunk, and we sort have to out-drunk it.


"the lines were dawn..."

[mnaz]

indeed.