Monday, February 5, 2007

550 Original Poetry: The Notebooks

Will never be written in again,
those holders of his boundless ideas,
frameless words,
and cryptic thoughts.
Yet they could never
hold him.
None of us could,
hard as we tried.

He lived art
uncensored,
breathed through lungs sans ribcage,
free from the constraints
of most mortals – or immortals, for that matter.
I like to think that Pan himself was jealous
of those mountain highs.

Untamed time melts into chaos as
past and further past mingle
dripping into each other.
But they harbor no present nor future;
stunted like trees buffeted by winds,
they will grow no more tangled branches.

Reading them is like a trip
into another mind,
another world,
into the past which is not a boomerang
coming back to its place of origin
to be thrown again.

Reading them is trippy;
your imbalance is his design.
Don't be afraid to fall as you follow
the words recklessly leaping in all directions,
taking you places you never knew existed,
and some where you never could then –
nor can now – go,
for the moss, fog, and fungi,
while not solid or stable,
are eerily forgiving.

4 comments:

Wayne said...


Untamed time melts into chaos as
past and further past mingle
dripping into each other.
But they harbor no present nor future;
stunted like trees buffeted by winds,
they will grow no more tangled branches.


I really like this image. Are these memories of ours falling towards mythology.

Ariana aka Leviathan said...

possibly . . . interesting thought

jimmy550 said...

Your imagery works very well for me, also; and, the poem maintains a use of language that is at once delicate and natural. I, too, especially like the image of the past and further past "dripping" into each other, as well as that of the trees stunted by buffetting winds. Both the imagery and the language are Collins-like.

Content wise, the transcendent quality of the individual about whom this poem is written is captured here. The line "free from the constraints of most mortals--or immortals for that matter" works especially well; but, it is the complete poem which illuminates a spirit in life that has tapped into a different dimension of existence. The result is our standing in awe at this individual, rather than in pitying his or her death.

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