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    AC Benus
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. 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. 

a Glass Floor Underfoot - 32. Queer Birds

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Dämmerung

 

3. Fremde Vögel

 

Kein Luftraum lebt, wo diese Vögel flögen;

Kein Wasser, das sie trüge

Matt wie Perlmutter ihre Flügel bunt

Gelassen spiegeln Sich im Himmels-Rund.

 

Doch manchmal öffnen sie die Schwingen

Und decken stolz die grauen Wolke-Hallen

Und regen Winde auf, die Töne bringen,

Und Sterne springen ab, die jauchzend fallen.

 

---------------------------------

 

 

Gloaming

 

3. Queer Birds

 

No airspace yet lives for these birds to make theirs;

No water to support them from which to fly,

Like matte mother-of-pearl feathers in shares

Serenely reflected in the round sky.

 

Yet sometimes they will open a wing

And cover the gray halls of clouds, proudly voicing

The stirred-up wind to tintabulations bring

From whose heights the stars leap, and fall rejoicing.

 

 

spacer.png

Sheila Norgate Raven with Issues (2006)

 

 

 

_

Copyright © 2022 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. 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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I'm not sure the artwork is entirely a good choice for this poem, but I haven't seen other, more period-correct, options show up. If you do run across something, please by all means, post it here for us to share :)

Well, with this Queer Bird poem, we've hit the second to last offering. There will be just one more poem by Robert Jentzsch in this collection, and it's a special one    

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Well, I could have been more eloquent, I suppose, but that summed it up.  I'll look for a picture, though I think that one matched quite well.

Edited by Backwoods Boy
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46 minutes ago, Backwoods Boy said:

Indeed!

I take this to mean the spreading of our wings :yes: So I accept your indeed, Jon, gratefully

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13 minutes ago, Backwoods Boy said:

Well, I could have been more eloquent, I suppose, but that summed it up.  I'll look for a picture, though I think that one matched quite well.

Thank you! Now that you've read this poem, you can see Jentzsch inspired me to use his idea of mother-of-pearl wings for one of my own recent poems ;)

 

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1 hour ago, AC Benus said:

I take this to mean the spreading of our wings :yes: So I accept your indeed, Jon, gratefully

 

1 hour ago, AC Benus said:

Thank you! Now that you've read this poem, you can see Jentzsch inspired me to use his idea of mother-of-pearl wings for one of my own recent poems ;)

 

Quite :) 

Edited by Backwoods Boy
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Jentzsch plies his pen with great skill in this poem. In it, he flies up and shows us colors against a sky often too unwilling to tolerate the rainbow. Thank you! 

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On 2/18/2023 at 12:51 PM, Parker Owens said:

Jentzsch plies his pen with great skill in this poem. In it, he flies up and shows us colors against a sky often too unwilling to tolerate the rainbow. Thank you! 

I think you are absolutely right, Parker. The existing evidence suggests that Jentzsch gave up poetry once he signed up for the war; there no poems in any of the existing letters wrote while in uniform. He survived two terms of service, went home, but reenlisted a few months later. Then he was killed in action, very late in the war, and the world lost a poet with the potential to be another Hermann Hesse or Rainer Maria Rilke.

A poem like the one above proves his artistic trajectory

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