Friday, May 18, 2007

Silence, Solace and Self

Poetry is one of those things that you never know whether or not you like it or hate it. Sometimes its just a way to sit down and play with words. Whether or not this is done well is left for you to decide. The flavour of life is the spice of diversity and I like poetry for that reason above any other. Every once and awhile its nice to write without bounds and do without set rules. Poetry blesses the writer with such freedoms that you'd be a fool to ignore them.

The type of poem Silence, Solace and Self is I'd call stream of consciousness, which doesn't always work, but I will put myself in the spotlight and post this one.

Imagine the passion, waves clashing with shore I so adore
And me walking and remembering following the beach wood
wondering if I could forget the absurd everything!
that blankets all clear thoughts with the clutter of living hard
rather than the morning, the birds chirping, the sand sifting between my toes
and the wind softly blowing controlling the balance of -me- living
All this so consuming
I lay down now weak from so much sound
what loudness you may ask?
This life I have cast, the stones have landed and they stand fast
and my beating the inevitable past
burdens me with hope, such bitter remorseful hope
but the taste of the cool ocean-moist air rushing, rumblings rivers through my soul
steals my past, those thoughts of old, of past loves
those long gone, days when I was young and strong
and pulls me back to me and the sound singing like a song
is so silent, such silence harbors me like a spicate of land
and my world of blowing sand, this desert becomes an oasis from the madness
and I am glad, full of gladness
and the orchestra of this life builds and blooms into a million words without words
and that alone makes me feel at home and whisks me back
to the rocky, ravaged edge of an ocean and the peace and quiet of nature's choir
opens my eyes and cuts my ears off and casts them aside
and a blind man becomes a deaf man who hears what is to be heard
and listens to what is said

Softly blowing now, a cool wind frowns with a deep chill
and the hounds haunt my realm of silence by treading deeper still
to the stillness that reaches through years, through fears, through all that I may feel
for my solace is my chalice of salvation, my rendition of redemption
I am cold now but not cold, I feel only alive, so alive it makes me bold
courageous enough even to challenge my soul and my peace of mind
so empowered am I that I am willing to attack my other self in defense of my true self
I left sadness for a happy trail, I left a hell bent life on a heavenly gale
and I flew high, as high as I could fly
to find my angle and my imaginative fairyland fable
Only a dream? Yes, but a dream inside a dream looking inside a life
and at a person who wanted escape but could not find freedom
could not stop running to see the sun until today, right now
All past wrongs, miscalculations, mistakes, and lapses of judgement begone
They are accepted for what they are but not for what they have become
This burden is my harness and I will not till the fields
under a master who lays seeds on fields of white
This moment, now, I must seize my peace
for without peace, the mind is a jumble of thoughts
and self cannot coexist in the absence of solace
And so I find myself in the midst of a thunder cloud carrying the waters of this world
and I feel a raindrop drip and another until I am soaked
and each drop a blessing of remembrance and semblance of forgiveness
which I alone could accept and I alone accepted
that I am me and I am at peace
With my arms in the air and the ocean rushing up to my knees
I declare, “I must be free?” And I am not afraid

From here to the beyond, I ride the waves still in search of freedom
By searching I find I am able to see into this inner self that haunts me
and what I see, does it’s violence, velocity to destruction
steal me back to reality? I wish it were so simple - to escape.
I see only madness and I feel mad
I surrender to this violence and lose all semblance of me, my freedom to be free
and yet there is a bridge to another time and I walk, I cross this bridge to the other side
where a fluttering, flickering flash of a dream resides, reminds, opens the blinds
a recollection of my past seemingly holds me, steals me, even hates me
but time harbors, helps, and regenerates the heart and soul of me
going back to the child that was so uncouth,without the weight of wisdom, and truth? Only the feather reality
and simple harmony of pure blissful satisfying delightful discovery of everything
I grin, I sigh, I uncover and find that I can mend my life
and in a rush of pure joy - I realize the madness -
for the first time I heard the rhythms of my heartbeat and the calling of this life
and I didn't feel beside my life but inside it, a part of it
two and two we became one and the same through and through
not an eye looking in but an eye looking out
And there, sudden like, I witnessed a sunset bloom
reflecting ghoulish motifs of an angry sky and a wondrous smile brightens on my face
and I swim in such happiness, such joyous happiness
because I am me, myself, and a self only of self
free at last to be myself
and so in a revelation of imagination silence, solace and self
swim across the ocean of my mind
where a-swoon I sing to the coming moon...


SkiSickness said...

I know whether I like it or hate it.

cascadepoet said...

You crack we up Sky. Thanks for the laugh!