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Saturday, August 11th 2007, by Marissa A Spencer
a friend on The Daily Grail remarked on my last poem...
"aren't poems supposed to rhyme?"
so... I wrote one that did lol
Beneath the Towering Spires
I have walked beneath the towering spires
That in crystal blue flashings rise
Reflections of light like freezing fires
Burning into my awestruck eyes
Others walk; beside, before, beside
Faces hidden, voices soft, robes a-glide
Penitents or worshipers, I cannot decide
I'm unseen by those gemlike walls above
So small and lightless now, I intend to be
Yet they radiate such grace and love
Sending fleeting visions for me to see
With wand'ring beings before me bright
I am but a small shard of blazing light
Return may I to this brilliant dimension
Passing the gates into new comprehension
© August 11,2007 Marissa A Spencer
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Category: Poetry
4 comments
12 Aug 2007 @ 02:17 by vaxen : Nice!
Very well said, Marissa. However if you've ever read Robert Graves' works then you must know that there is no need whatsoever for poetry to rhyme itself to death.
Unfortunately most American, I suppose other nationalities as well, school children are not familiarized with Graves' work.
He says of poetry that it is 'religious invocation of the Muse' and that a woman should write as the Muse behind all poesy.
Agree or disagree he has a point. The Sofayeen, as well, mention this...
Symbolizes nature...veiled or unveiled. I personally care not either way nor will I be subservient to male or female dichotes of any persuasion.
Let's look into the root meaning of the word and take from all those fractals a semblance of essence beyond the plus or minus of it all. No Gods No Goddesses just pure being.
I like the way your word arrangements fall and fit themselves into a beingness which trance-mits your feeling...good show, Marissa.
12 Aug 2007 @ 04:03 by skookum : Thanks *grins
I have a feeling the last poetry this guy had read was Dr Seuss
xox
m
12 Aug 2007 @ 04:54 by jazzolog : Dr. Seuss
you silly goose
was too obtuse
a screw was loose
too much mousse
turned his hair puce
his poems in a noose
he screamed O Deuce
now he's with Zeus
12 Aug 2007 @ 04:57 by skookum : yeah
lol
that's the idea jazz!
Other entries in Poetry
Sunday, June 15th 2008: Beyond
Sunday, June 15th 2008: The Food Prayer
Sunday, June 15th 2008: Between Here and There
Wednesday, May 28th 2008: poem: we are dancing
Sunday, May 18th 2008: Fading
Thursday, April 10th 2008: The Winds
Sunday, February 24th 2008: Perfect
Wednesday, February 13th 2008: My Garden Waits
Thursday, February 7th 2008: Poem: Penance of Winter
Tuesday, January 1st 2008: Rose Calico Skies
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