01-13-2013, 12:01 AM
As has been said by the others above, this is a fascinating poem that will draw the reader to re-visit and chew over.
In substance it brings to mind the cultural differences and appraisal of food, I discovered when I first visited China. What would be considered a good feed in the west – a lump of steak or a chicken breast… is described as dead meat in China….they prefer tasty little bits that they can roll around in their mouths and chew over. My first read of this and I did not really get it. Second read, I was caught by the idea of a tasty morsel…third read was the treat and I’m still chewing over it.
This is what your poem brought to my mind ...and Billy thinks his thought process is weird!
The spider laughed, As we have been told this is a dream, this brought to mind the cobwebs of our minds and as such the spider was taken as the voice or behaviour of the subconscious
slipped a little here and there - It is a dream after all and the mind is notorious for playing tricks on us.
as he danced - Yes this works...my mind dances all over the place
his furry feet - first of the chewy bits...why are the feet furry?...and his? - This influence is male. If I was genderising my subconscious I would probably make it male (as my brain is female and they bicker all the time!)
in the pools of sweat gathered - this still works for my application...have you any idea how hard it is to get my brain to do anything useful!
inside my head,
tap tapping against - and then there's that bloody subconscious voice nagging away
the bare bones
of my nightmare, - Ah, the nightmare...time for another chew over what it is this time.
like half-drowned morse - Again brings to mind the workings of the subconscious.
tossed around - first of the indicators for me that this is going to be a spiritual poem. (Standing firm in convictions V being tossed around by every whim and thought).
on a rough pillow. – if I allow my thoughts to continue on the same path from above, this becomes a rough and sleepless period - dark night of the soul = deep spiritual questioning. (or it could just be a manky pillow
)
I had gone to sleep – continuing my spiritual journey
in my own bed – in the faith of my outer / visible convictions and upbringing.
and woken – had a (spiritual) crisis that brought me to a new awareness.
elsewhere, -
somewhen,
in the Golden Palace. – new chewy bit. What or where is the place / thing that holds my treasure?
My name,
driftwood, flotsam,
an alluring memory
far from my grasp
smashed by the dark;
wrapped,
a cocooned fragment
dangles helpless
with the rest,
in cobwebs. – Love all of this stanza. Blown around by every wind of change. Self examination. The true self is illuminated and seen for what it is.
Sticky remnants to feed
endless fear. – this brings me up short…(it’s those furry feet again I think!)
There, in the Palace,
next to the Mosque, - reference to the Muslim faith
dreams are punctured
by Adnan. – A figure / progenitor of the tribe of Arabs from northern Arabia (tradition suggests that Mohamed came from this line / tribe). So again an indicator that this is a deeply spiritual poem.
The word of God interrupts
spiders and pillows and men.
That song weaves
another dance
and a promise.
- the reference to the Muslim faith / Mohamed does not detract or add to the bias of this piece in my opinion. Throughout it can be taken as an ambiguous piece that allows the reader to take a position of faith from either / any point of reference. For this reason I feel that this is a very well crafted piece and it is this aspect that allows the reader from any walk or persuasion to revisit this repeatedly and follow their “spiders” on many different paths.
Great read thanks for sharing. AJ.
In substance it brings to mind the cultural differences and appraisal of food, I discovered when I first visited China. What would be considered a good feed in the west – a lump of steak or a chicken breast… is described as dead meat in China….they prefer tasty little bits that they can roll around in their mouths and chew over. My first read of this and I did not really get it. Second read, I was caught by the idea of a tasty morsel…third read was the treat and I’m still chewing over it.
This is what your poem brought to my mind ...and Billy thinks his thought process is weird!
The spider laughed, As we have been told this is a dream, this brought to mind the cobwebs of our minds and as such the spider was taken as the voice or behaviour of the subconscious
slipped a little here and there - It is a dream after all and the mind is notorious for playing tricks on us.
as he danced - Yes this works...my mind dances all over the place
his furry feet - first of the chewy bits...why are the feet furry?...and his? - This influence is male. If I was genderising my subconscious I would probably make it male (as my brain is female and they bicker all the time!)
in the pools of sweat gathered - this still works for my application...have you any idea how hard it is to get my brain to do anything useful!
inside my head,
tap tapping against - and then there's that bloody subconscious voice nagging away
the bare bones
of my nightmare, - Ah, the nightmare...time for another chew over what it is this time.
like half-drowned morse - Again brings to mind the workings of the subconscious.
tossed around - first of the indicators for me that this is going to be a spiritual poem. (Standing firm in convictions V being tossed around by every whim and thought).
on a rough pillow. – if I allow my thoughts to continue on the same path from above, this becomes a rough and sleepless period - dark night of the soul = deep spiritual questioning. (or it could just be a manky pillow
)I had gone to sleep – continuing my spiritual journey
in my own bed – in the faith of my outer / visible convictions and upbringing.
and woken – had a (spiritual) crisis that brought me to a new awareness.
elsewhere, -
somewhen,
in the Golden Palace. – new chewy bit. What or where is the place / thing that holds my treasure?
My name,
driftwood, flotsam,
an alluring memory
far from my grasp
smashed by the dark;
wrapped,
a cocooned fragment
dangles helpless
with the rest,
in cobwebs. – Love all of this stanza. Blown around by every wind of change. Self examination. The true self is illuminated and seen for what it is.
Sticky remnants to feed
endless fear. – this brings me up short…(it’s those furry feet again I think!)
There, in the Palace,
next to the Mosque, - reference to the Muslim faith
dreams are punctured
by Adnan. – A figure / progenitor of the tribe of Arabs from northern Arabia (tradition suggests that Mohamed came from this line / tribe). So again an indicator that this is a deeply spiritual poem.
The word of God interrupts
spiders and pillows and men.
That song weaves
another dance
and a promise.
- the reference to the Muslim faith / Mohamed does not detract or add to the bias of this piece in my opinion. Throughout it can be taken as an ambiguous piece that allows the reader to take a position of faith from either / any point of reference. For this reason I feel that this is a very well crafted piece and it is this aspect that allows the reader from any walk or persuasion to revisit this repeatedly and follow their “spiders” on many different paths.
Great read thanks for sharing. AJ.