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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: OLD MEN SEE VISIONSdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: hanuman
    ASL Info:    3 score & 10 & some!
    Elite Ratio:    5.99 - 804/1015/239
    Words: 423
    Class/Type: Poetry/Depressed
    Total Views: 1037
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2738



    Description:
       It is the annual chocolate fish night of the Hawkes Bay Live Poets' Society and we are challenged to incorporate a given line into an original poem. I decided to incorporate all the given lines.
    These lines are from the six New Zealand Poets Laureate -
    Bill Manhire (1998-99) From Children … like clouds unable to make repairs
    Hone Tuwhare (2000-01) From No Ordinary Sun … wreathed with the delightful flight
    Elizabeth Smither (2002-03) From The Sea Question … It is never the same on any two visits
    Brian Turner (2004-05) From Wilson Boys' Boat …My imaginary possession more real than real
    Jenny Bornholdt (2006-07) From Instructions for How to Get Ahead of Yourself while the Light Still Shines
    …This is you creeping up on your self
    Michelle Leggott ((2008-09) From Blue Irises 1 … Now it begins, another voyage after nemesis
    Cilla McQueen (2010-11) From Vegetable Garden Poem I …being hauled upwards by the sun


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsOLD MEN SEE VISIONSdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Yes, I am forever knocking on Heaven's door.
    I have only to close my eyes to find it.
    It is never the same on any two visits,
    but every time, in different ways I find release.
    I put myself into a trance,
    where my ego is subsumed by my id.
    (This is you creeping up on yourself.)
    I surrender myself to where the spirits take me.
    Now it begins, another voyage after nemesis.

    In my dreams I visit Paradise.
    I take off my spectacles, blink in the sun
    and like a falcon released from my jesses,
    I take to the blue eternal sky.
    I climb like a skylark in a trill of song,
    being hauled upwards by the sun,
    a thrilling spiral of whirlwind notes
    as I sing in larksong my epiphany.
    As the peregrine again I stoop,
    wreathed with the delightful flight;
    scythe the hissing air,
    blistering back to earth
    and blow apart some plump breasted dove
    into a supernova ball of feathers and blood.

    In my reverie I visit Elysium
    and run my tongue in joyful exploration,
    probing the crevices, cusps and contours
    of my forgotten set of perfect teeth,
    my imaginary possession more real than real.
    Mature cheddar stings once more my palate
    and chillies are inedible in their ferocity.
    Over the years Monet repainted his water lilies
    in progressively more jaundiced hues
    to faithfully reflect the clouding of his cataracts.
    But I now see Elysium in all the vibrancy
    of Rousseau's primal, tiger-jungle dream.

    In my vision I visit Valhalla,
    leave my crutches in the entrance hall
    and feel once more the warrior self I almost was.
    The bow-cord, cat-gut taut tension of sinews,
    the lungs of the runner from Marathon,
    the coursing blood and the willing heart.
    Shield maidens fair surround me
    as I become visible to their gaze
    and their nostrils are full of my pheromones
    and their dark pupils open wide.

    In my mumbling musings I visit Nirvana
    yearning to drink once more from the fountain,
    to walk again both on water and on air,
    and through the bed of hot embers on bare feet.
    Hope burns like a bonfire on the cliff top
    and my path leads to high mountains
    and at every turn I see unexplored vistas
    and hear the distant shouts of laughter
    and a tickle of curiosity.

    But then reality drops a pebble in the pond,
    the mirror shatters into chaotic shards.
    the visions disintegrate
    like clouds unable to make repairs .




    Submitted on 2011-03-23 19:54:45     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      This is a positive hegira to xanadu . I love the way you went overboard and included all of the lines in the assignment . If I were grading you on this I have to give you an A . Not just for the extra effort , but more for the seamless way you incorporated the lines into your work . When we are young we feel invincible , but with age comes the realization of our finite nature . Some despair , others find religion , and those like us find solace in visions of a manifest destiny with infiniteness , replete with a reincarnation of our youthful vigor , and fecund virility incarnate . Unfortunately your final verse really speaks of the inevitable demise of these visions leaving us with the apparent sooth of existence again . I thank you for the read . It was empowering and most enjoyable for this old lecher's spirit .

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2011-03-24 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      "like clouds unable to make repairs"

    i will visit all these places in my mind before i end up in one for eternity...

    even though i am at heaven's door, i am not quite ready..i still have exploring to do...

    i need to make repairs ...

    this is nice use of all of those lines...paying homage that way...

    i have read several of your pieces...and really like them so much...only i agree with a comment made on an earlier piece....the descriptions...give us too much and steer us in one direction...and rereading several of the poems i think there are many places the reader could go on his or her own...

    would like to see that door still wide open...

    because your poems are definitely a journey...and would like to sightsee without seeing the sights beforehand.

    jacob
    | Posted on 2011-03-23 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]


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