Don’t Wake

 

pregnant pause

 

sound of –

 

whispered commas,

squiggles separate sounded,

sectioned sentences,

unceasing, suspending respiration,

just this long

 

ellipses evaporate…

ethereally…

 

suggestion (statement)

statement (subliminal suggestion)

 

“citation”

plagiarism

 

 

wait for it

 

 

period.

 

 

 

Posted to dVerse Poets Pub, where Björn is behind the bar for Meeting the Bar.  Tonight he suggests, “…it’s time to talk about silence in poetry. The special silence filled with rhythm and meaning. The caesura. A pause to breathe, to accentuate the meaning. Silence and pauses are as crucial to poetry as any other device such as rhythm or rhymes.”

Portion

Okay, so I had reblogged this before, but it was formatted in a way that half of this couldn’t be seen on my blog.  Now I can’t reblog it properly….

 

Let the children lamentations sing
For we are by the internet captive taken

Save yourselves, oh virginal generation
For intellectual artifice is your destined heir,
their anodized steel, your veneration;
soft, weak, your flesh shall they bare.

Let the strong youth petitions bring
For our pure reason not be forsaken

Save yourselves, oh mighty youth
For logic will flail in the walls of code,
stand upon the edge of time – see the proof;
chaos will surely be your Spartan abode.

Let grownups extol the joy of books
For it is by writing and reading we live

Save your words, you fading fosters
For it is a pleasure to deny; to burn
lexicons of man the blazing imposter
your poet’s words will die, unlearned.

Let the elders shepherd with staffs and crooks
For it is seeming that to us their wisdom they give

Save your wisdom, oh perishing patriarch
For your children have slain with derision;
lit and celebrated the dying guide’s mark,
cauterized argument flayed with precision.

 

For Jilly’s December Casting Bricks Collaborative Challenge, this is my completion of Charley’s challenge poem (Life in Portofino).  His words are in bold.

Charis

 

For me it means
unmerited favor.

I show grace
by not forcing
my reasonable faith
upon the disbelief
of others.

I long for others
to not disparage
my unreasonable faith
uncharitably, to prove
their reasonable disbelief
to me.

By grace I accept
you as you are.

I pray you
exercise openness
by gracefully overlooking
my expressions
of joy at having
grace applied –
as I believe.

Allow me my delusions.

Humor me, you scientists,
skeptics… post-modernists.

If we all thought
and believed
alike,
upon whom could we exercise

grace?

 

Posted at dVerse Poets Pub, Poetics.  The prompt word is “Grace.”