What's Worth Doing

in #inspiration6 years ago (edited)

What's Worth Doing

original poetry


mona_vale_mono_by_fireflyphotosaust-d5272u2 2.jpg


Dis-facility

Silvery tine
of a sceptre resonating
which I must still.

Crowned, the challenges
of a brass kingdom
on a string.

To be yearned for:
to be pursued.

I admire the dew;
its evanescent evasion,
its consort the sun—
inevitably evaporating.

My hands, too,
Rust-stained and rough,
Must one day shine in triumph.


silver_sea_by_jbrum-d5ubrk0 2.jpg


mona_vale_mono_by_fireflyphotosaust-d5272u2 3.jpg


Poetry by
@d-pend
6/27/18
.
Photos by

.
1 — "Mona Vale Mono" by FireflyPhotosAust
[cropped]
2 — "Silver Sea" by Jbrum [edited]
3 — "Silver Footed" by ShadyBlues [cropped]
4 — "Island" by EvaMcDermott [edited]


mona_vale_mono_by_fireflyphotosaust-d5272u2 6.jpg


b5643ce55511a3c0395c65acfb54d449-d57nm25 2.jpg


mona_vale_mono_by_fireflyphotosaust-d5272u2 4.jpg


Difficulty


What's worth doing
           does not
yield            
its secrets instantly.


mona_vale_mono_by_fireflyphotosaust-d5272u2 5.jpg


island_by_evamcdermott 2.jpg


Sort:  

It is true of many things. From arts to love. This may sound corny for the Latino audience, but this poems made me think of that, so here it goes. A Guatemalan singer and composer, Ricardo Arjona, popularized a song that said

Si me dices que sí, dejaré de luchar y me volveré un idiota.
Mejor dime que no, y dame ese sí como un cuanta gotas.
Dime que no, pensando en un sí, y déjame lo otro a mí
Que si se me pone fácil, el amor se hace frágil y uno para de luchar.

(If you tell me yes, I'll stop fighting and become an idiot.
Better say no, and give me that yes like a dropper.
Tell me no, while thinking of a yes, and let me do the rest.
Because if it gets easy, loves grows fragile and one stops fighting.)

I find your "Dis-facility" arresting. My 14-year-old step-daughter is a musician and i remember seeing her struggling with some violin pieces day after day, for what seemed to me like a drilling eternity, and yet, her sense of determination and satisfaction knowing that her piece would ensemble and fit a whole that people would appreciate and admire.
Your poem has some of that orchestral architecture, especially with the allusions to brass and strings resonating .
I could not help perceiving a certain contradiction, though, in this matters of insistence on capturing the "evanescence evasions" that can represent human existence and legacy.
Like the pictures that accompany the poem, the erosive power of the waves slowly but steadily reveal marvels but also scary scars.
To what extent is it imperative to obsess ourselves with leaving posterity something they should marvel about?
At what cost?

My hands, too,
Rust-stained and rough,
Must one day shine in triumph

Sounds rhymic towards this ending verse, I enjoyed how it quite ended, it's beautiful @d-pend, the inspiration? How did it come about?

Thanks @josediccus, it came from the idea at bottom: "What's worth doing doesn't yield its secrets instantly." That is, there is value in hardship, difficulty, suffering: when it is properly understood. If we are human gems, it is the process of going from rough and uncut to shimmering, actualized. Vaguely behind this is the acceptance of the fact that humans are mortal and thus, when we perish from this form we hand off the extent of our achievements to the next generation to take up where we left off.

awesome poetry :)

Wow that's a great poetry ..I appreciate your post my dear friend and f follow your every post..
Actually you are a great person of this platform .
Keep it up..
I will wait for your next post..

Thank you for the comment and for following my blog @hhumaira. Have a great day!

You're a good poet @d-pend

Thank you for your kindness, @facttechz. bows

Bow!
This is too much dear.

Hi, @d-pend.

This piece stays silvery from the very first word. In a world of brass, the rust appears beautiful in the end as a sign of use and time.

Crowned, the challenges
of a brass kingdom
on a string.
.
To be yearned for:
to be pursued.

Like the sculptor or the carver, the musician yearns for the perfect melody, its triumph. The quest for our personal grail is a huge spiritual edeavor and we humans do suffer the hardships, for we lack the "evanescent evasion" of the dew.

manthis hit me hard
What's worth doing
does not
yield
its secrets instantly.

thank you

@d-pend nice line's written by you and the pics look amazing.
i m waiting for ur next poetry.

That was a difficult rhythm but beautifully written!

Great!! Amazing!!

the imagery of this poem is such a beautiful one ..many thanks for this today too..I usually take a very close look at how you choose your words and its arrangements whenever l am writing one.it is really great @d-pend

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