Just A Little Diddy

[NobodyNothing]

Hi, NN, I've been enjoying the feeling off completeness here, from the writing to the fullness of the idea. My problem is so far I haven't come across something that will really make this one stick in my mind.

Sidenote: I've recently tried bequeath/beneath myself, , I think you've done a bit better, but I'm not sure you quite get away with beneath a golden eye, unless I as missing something, which is surely possible as I am eucharistically ignorant.

Glad you posted it.

Hi. I've been caught in my own little vortex of pathos for the last week. I did like that poem you wrote, liked that interactive/dual-medium approach between image and the event of the poem (like the protective fish on the border). I thought to myself "what an interesting idea that would be to do a series of poems where the image displayed (could be quite ordinary) served as a real interactive element with the poem that was written." Somewhat Blake-ean in one way, but not in another. I don't know, just a passing thought I had.

By the way, when I mentioned that 2nd half of the 2nd stanza of that poem, I honestly could have been wrong; but if what I said had any aesthetic merit at all, I was talking about a little *tweak* or two there. That's all. I was thinking like a hangnail clipper, not a machete. lol

Anyway...this is one of the only poems I've ever written that I still like, that doesn't make me nauseous. What was hard about it for me was that it was a poem of youth, meaning I had to go back years and years in my mind to find that energy again, to write it from that place. It was a poem of spiritual ecstasy, to express how it actually happens in the mind, the full manic range of such a thing. I wanted to do it like a flat smooth stone being hurled from the water's edge, and each stanza was like a skip of the stone on the water, until the delirium ended and the stone sunk at last below. I wanted to be fair in my poetic logic, but also not over-write it, leave a lot of room for the reader's own imagination. I do know exactly what I intended with every word/stanza. That's the best one can do, methinks.

Yeah...

Death and grief, time's bequeath,
Beauty's resonant cry
For the love dared beneath
A blazing golden eye...

was the culminating stanza. The last four were meant to be fading out snapshots...*poof* *poof* *poof* *poof*. Things break up and unravel, don't they? The beneath a golden eye...that was just the sun, but a metaphor for that totally conscious, immaculate eye that sees things precisely for what they are. In this case, those acts of love that are truly dared in a life or death kind of way. Love and vulnerability are always inseparable to me in this life. To give in such a way fulling knowing that loss awaits, whether it strikes quick and fierce, or bides its time. That demon of indifference is certainly a bitch.

Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts. Grateful. I've read some real good things here recently, but haven't had the mind and the time to say something just and appreciative of them as yet.

Cheers and best wishes.