poetry is: what is poetry?
once perusing through
19th century poems...
the claustrophobia of rhymes -
measures - how unlike the gay science
of spontaneity - collages -
i could never write you a sonnet -
there's no: 'shall i compare you to
a summer's day'?
i can't do that...
......
whirling rose petals
as they move to dream music
sunflower acclaim
dips in dahlias
orange yellow cream and red
spins past snapdragons
four o'clock fragrance
and flourishes near fuchsias
......
WHEN, by a generous Public's kind acclaim,
That dearest meed is granted—honest fame;
Waen here your favour is the actor's lot,
Nor even the man in private life forgot;
What breast so dead to heavenly Virtue's glow,
But heaves impassion'd with the grateful throe?
Poor is the task to please a barb'rous throng,
It needs no Siddons' powers in Southern's song;
But here an ancient nation, fam'd afar,
For genius, learning high, as great in war.
......
Are you writing under forced consent?
Or the need to see your thoughts in print?
Does it set your intellectual mind on fire?
Engulfing you in a deep desire.
Does it torture you in your dreams at night?
The shining image of your name in lights
The nightmare of being one or the other
Anonymous or your face on the cover.
......
The point is, young Wm., you have no ticket
to the pantheon. Earned it? Yes. But in leaving,
left the scrip behind; compared yourself
to erstwhile selves, and having fallen thus,
go now unbidden. Whilst you, young Wm., hailed
......
whirling rose petals
as they move to dream music
sunflower acclaim
dips in dahlias
orange yellow cream and red
spins past snapdragons
four o'clock fragrance
and flourishes near fuchsias
......
I waited outside the House of Fame
as there was nothing else to do.
Then, when nearly all hope was loss,
an important woman noticed me there.
She took my hand and said I had promise
before disappearing into a well-lit hall.
Soon afterward, the large doors closed
and it was very dark, and I was cold.
But I could still hear the music playing
and see people on a moonlit balcony.
......
Heavy pressures of fame were getting to me, since I was world famous,
And desperately needed a getaway, as a rainbow sometimes detains us.
I was a successful performer, and ardent press went wherever I went,
Like exotic sunsets, which give not 100, but up to a thousand percent.
I'd always really loved my career, the excitement, the fans and thrills,
Sort of like the sensation you get, when a pale moon gives you chills!
Yet I needed to be completely alone, in a distinctive retreat of my own,
......
It came in the blackness of midnight,
A beam in the darkness, glowing white,
And soared to space, above the crowd,
Where scintillating gleam is allowed!
His torch lit the way for many others,
Pursuing his footsteps through the years,
And altered extremely, so much of fate,
So that for destiny they weren't late.
......
The point is, young Wm., you have no ticket
to the pantheon. Earned it? Yes. But in leaving,
left the scrip behind; compared yourself
to erstwhile selves, and having fallen thus,
go now unbidden. Whilst you, young Wm., hailed
......