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    Headstall
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Cozy Contemplations - 31. Chapter 31 Dribbles

Every so often....

*

 

Dribbles

 

 

My soul, at times, cries out

The written word its voice

And the strength of the clamor

Allows me little choice

 

For a singer must sing

And a poet must emote

Though sometimes what is heard

Is an oft uncertain note

 

An eagle lives to soar

While the caged bird only sings

They exist in different realms

Yet both do have their wings

 

Time—it waits for no man

And means little to the moon

But cycles do rule each

With different measurements to ‘soon’

 

So allow me my cries

To seep out in these scribbles

Like catching rain from a roof

We can’t control the dribbles

 

Sometimes I am the eagle

And sometimes I’m locked in place

Never am I the moon, though

Just a man on an unsteady pace

 

I guess what I’m trying to say

Is that our connections do run deep

And while no longer in my presence

Within my heart, you still, I keep

 

 

*

Are we poets more tortured than others? Of course not... we just seem like it because we have been blessed with the ability, or circumstance, to express ourselves in the written word.  What we are, though, is driven to emote through poetry. Why? That is a whole other question. :) Thanks for reading. 
Copyright © 2017 Headstall; All Rights Reserved.
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The content presented here is for informational or educational purposes only. These are just the authors' personal opinions and knowledge.
Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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In German we call this: Vom Weltschmerz geküsst (= kissed by the world`s woe)

and I think all poets know the feeling and are blessed to be able to express that.  

My favorite stanza is this, it brings a very strong connection to the reader:

"Sometimes I am the eagle

And sometimes I’m locked in place

Never am I the moon, though

Just a man on an unsteady pace"

 

Thank you for sharing. 🙂 Lyssa

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19 minutes ago, Lyssa said:

In German we call this: Vom Weltschmerz geküsst (= kissed by the world`s woe)

and I think all poets know the feeling and are blessed to be able to express that.  

My favorite stanza is this, it brings a very strong connection to the reader:

"Sometimes I am the eagle

And sometimes I’m locked in place

Never am I the moon, though

Just a man on an unsteady pace"

 

Thank you for sharing. 🙂 Lyssa

"Vom Weltschmerz geküsst (= kissed by the world`s woe)"  I like this. It's very much where I am at the moment, although this poem was more of a personal one in the end. I like the stanza you quoted... lately there is always that element of time in my thinking... I guess it's about getting older, although I don't fear it... I am more aware of time's passage, though. Less and less, I am the eagle, and more and more, the caged bird. All we can do is sing our words... adapt and keep going, and hold onto whatever love we have or feel for as long as time allows.

 

Thank you, Lyssa. :hug:  

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1 hour ago, mayday said:

different measurements to soon....

to me this poem speaks of different stages in our lives, how our views and awareness evolve, and that the reasons why we act like we do may differ completely due to circumstance. but the love we feel outlasts these changes - even if the loved one is gone - not much weltschmerz there....

I wondered how readers would interpret this line, but I see you've understood my meaning... as I get older, my inner poet gets more restless, and there are things I need to declare. Whether we live in different realms, we are connected, and while my time is different from the moon's time, it has cycles too. I see things so much differently than I did, but there is one constant I hold onto... the love I feel... it is both past and present....

 

Thanks, mayday, for reading and for the wonderful comment... :hug: 

...wow...

I heard a rumor that some guy up in Ontario was trying to become the Shakespeare of the New World, but I was doubtful--until now.  I did a lot of poetry reading to get my Lit degree in college, and carried around two huge paperbacks over ten pounds each in weight to prove it.  They covered English poetry back to Caedmon's Hymn and Beowulf, and up through Modern American poets like e.e.cummings and Maya Angelou...most of it was dry or wandering or done to reach the readers in some way.  Sure, some did manage that, but most 'classic' poets never sparked a deep emotion or lit a fire in my soul.

My dear Gary...you have consistently done that for me, with wit and relevance and imagery that brings out my pains and fears, and hopes and dreams. 

Do you, perchance, have a pond on your property?

:hug:

  • Love 1
3 hours ago, ColumbusGuy said:

...wow...

I heard a rumor that some guy up in Ontario was trying to become the Shakespeare of the New World, but I was doubtful--until now.  I did a lot of poetry reading to get my Lit degree in college, and carried around two huge paperbacks over ten pounds each in weight to prove it.  They covered English poetry back to Caedmon's Hymn and Beowulf, and up through Modern American poets like e.e.cummings and Maya Angelou...most of it was dry or wandering or done to reach the readers in some way.  Sure, some did manage that, but most 'classic' poets never sparked a deep emotion or lit a fire in my soul.

My dear Gary...you have consistently done that for me, with wit and relevance and imagery that brings out my pains and fears, and hopes and dreams. 

Do you, perchance, have a pond on your property?

:hug:

Wow right back. You make me blush, kind sir. I am just a simple poet, but thank you for the encouragement, buddy. Your words, as per usual, lift me up... and I'll try not to question whether they are deserved. :unsure:  You are a very learned man, and I am humbled that you like my simple poetry. 

 

No pond, no... on another note, we do have a Shakespeare Pond in Ontario.. it is near Stratford, home to our precious Stratford Festival, where his plays are performed. :) 

 

Thanks, CG... love you, man. :hug: 

 

 

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