Post by contention on Feb 8, 2006 16:29:36 GMT -5
Thine wicker burns bright,
A shade in the night,
Tossing Moonlight
Left and right.
Caught in that web
The entangled thread,
Where kneeling head
Doth preach the unsaid.
Chanted by His tune
Of the melting summers noon;
Harked by that Lune
To sway and to swoon.
Knit upon the abyss,
Falling to that bliss;
Where Her lips do not miss
Their sweet farewell kiss.
To rise and to die,
No mourner doth cry;
As dry lies the eye
Which stares in a sty.
Never truly far you seep,
Yet hide in heavens dear;
To come again and take your peek,
On the horizon ravened clear.
Blossoming from right to left,
Your petals span so wide;
Covering each caverened cleft
Emitting every chime.
To walk so high again,
On a journey side to side;
Knowing there and when,
That you’ll run out of time.
Man may learn and he may know,
But never come to be;
For he could never run your show
From land to gazing sea.
A shade in the night,
Tossing Moonlight
Left and right.
Caught in that web
The entangled thread,
Where kneeling head
Doth preach the unsaid.
Chanted by His tune
Of the melting summers noon;
Harked by that Lune
To sway and to swoon.
Knit upon the abyss,
Falling to that bliss;
Where Her lips do not miss
Their sweet farewell kiss.
To rise and to die,
No mourner doth cry;
As dry lies the eye
Which stares in a sty.
Never truly far you seep,
Yet hide in heavens dear;
To come again and take your peek,
On the horizon ravened clear.
Blossoming from right to left,
Your petals span so wide;
Covering each caverened cleft
Emitting every chime.
To walk so high again,
On a journey side to side;
Knowing there and when,
That you’ll run out of time.
Man may learn and he may know,
But never come to be;
For he could never run your show
From land to gazing sea.
----------------------------------------------------
Well, hmm. I did dislike this one as well. I tried a new thing with it, rhyming four lines together, then later on going to a diffrent rhyme pattern. So it goes from fast to slow. I don't know, it sounds weird to me. Oh yes, to cover up a few things: A sty is something I used to refer to blindness, while the true full term doesn't go on that. Though, it does have to do with the eye and sight, and going blind as well. I used that instead of saying "cataract" that of which is a blind spot on the eye. Therefore, those who do not cry over the loss of this "thing" must be staring into nothing to miss its beauty.
Hm, with things going on as they are I wasn't so sure if I should really make any new topics. Yet, I wrote this poem a bit back and elaborated on it some more. The main gist of this poem is up to you. I'll leave it a riddle since the name of what is being explained is never really given. Yet, you could figure this out by some very certain lines in there that give everything away. But, the poem also has to do more with "the subject" than what it looks like. It's a take on nature, and how it never seems to die. Even when it looks like it has come to and end it really isn't. Somehow, someway, more grow from things we can not see. From "heavens dear" they sprout, and we could never view them there.
Man may know about nature, and he may understand it, but he could never be a part of it because of what he is. Therefore, he could never take the "show" and control it to his liking. What is, will always be and can not be changed. The amount of money you have will mean nothing when you die. But those seas out there in the Earth will always remain, unlike your material items.
