an evedream
an evedream
What grants the world a pale, otherworldly sheen—
sustained intercessorless
but for the wind's whinging?
—something too familiar to be seen
glides ghastly over singed nerves.
An unperturbed consistency, aged,
tumbling teak-grain.
Flamingo monochrome
and the tree growing downwards:
gods how it tumbles,
umbrumatic roots lurching;
they find purchase on my scalp.
parched,
but too liquid for ink to adhere.
(a mouth
suddenly cottoned)
fertile,
but too dry to shield fragile seeds
from the burning that never begins
(what ungrateful misery
dreamed in the insertion of gloss;
gods how it shimmers!)
.
writing
and images
by @d-pend
12/12/18
.
@d-pend,
I noticed that the primary tag on this poem is "abstract" ... you are an honest man. :-)
Writer's Block?
Enter a contest. I kid you not. Let someone else choose the subject and then you'll have no choice but ad lib in order to produce. This gets the juices flowing again ... and it forces you out of the genres and themes to which you'd normally gravitate.
If I've misinterpreted the meaning of your words, pretend like I didn't, say something pithy ... and make my day. Let me get you started:
Quill ... that is a profound insight. Thank God I've got people like you to inspire me to greater heights of creativity ..."
Quill
It's been too difficult for me to figure out which way is up these days.
It is all relative, but relative to what? That starting point is so important.
Thank you for being here for me, so I can be here for you.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Botty loves you. <3
Well written but I need to read it again. Thanks for your gift my friend.
Very excellent composition is a very good super made by you.
Posted using Partiko Android
Another lovely one!
Lovely images. I'm really liking the tight integration with poem and pictures. Good work @d-pend
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Dear @d-pend sir
Great abstract photography as well as poetry too.I love to contribute in your every post.
Greetings, @d-pend.
I don't think this apparently absurd/abstract poem is the result of writer's block. I think it is very much characteristic of your style.
I regret I did not have time to comment it earlier. I have been busy taking care of domestic issues and can waste 3 to 6 hours a day only waiting in lines without the possibility of using a smart phone to get some things done while waiting.
Anyways, I love this poem. Precisely last night I watched “First Man” (the new rendition of NASA’s feat) and reading this poem took me to those shots we get from Armstrong’s perspective, the mesmerizing contemplation of earth from space, just the “otherworldly sheen” that “glides ghastly over singed nerves.”
We rarely think about the complexity of our planet, the simplicity of its structure and the power of that which protects us from impending burning doom.
Heaven and hell have been some of the ways in which humanity has expressed their fascination and their puzzlement for the marvel of life on a planet surrounded by void and balls of fire. We have to give credit to those who came up with stories that provide solace before the unfathomable mysteries of our universe, and more credit yet to those who have helped elucidate the mysteries, even if at the expense of complicating and challenging our understanding of things.
When we look at images of earth, these lines have a brighter meaning
What is the atmosphere or the ozone layer but things “too familiar to be seen” (taken for granted?). the system that provides us with life and death has, undoubtedly “An unperturbed consistency.” I see the image of “the umbrumatic roots lurching;/[finding] purchase on my scalp.” as a powerful metaphor for all achieved after much effort and suffering. Trees have to struggle quite a bit to take roots and be unperturbed by winds and men. They grow upwards and downwards (no many living creatures can do that), branches and roots expand in similar fashion and we have in our hair that parallel of growth on a surface that does not look very fertile. And we also grow roots, even if unlike the trees and those roots, when men looked up at the universe and started to understand it and conquer it, will eventually grow upwards, just like the branches of the trees.
Our planet would be like a bold head were it not by our invisible protection, “parched,
but too liquid for ink to adhere.” There is so much packed in this phrase: “what ungrateful misery
dreamed in the insertion of gloss”, gloss playing with all the words used before to picture light, brightness and shining surfaces, gloss also being an explanation or translation and at a lower level (higher in this case) “a superficially attractive appearance or impression.”