Posts: 2,602
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We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble onwards as we learn to touch and feel.
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way.
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we realise, quite suddenly, that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us; it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back.
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years.
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams…
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity.
Deluded once, now once again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad.
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down path.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves,
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers…wiser men and less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from our "destiny", a known unknown.
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
Now blind
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
3rd line from end. Is that better vaga?
Posts: 298
Threads: 45
Joined: Jul 2014
(12-29-2017, 12:52 AM)tectak Wrote:
We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble onwards as we learn to touch and feel. i like the anatomical reference to sinews, can´t explain why, maybe the mechanical view
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way.
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we realise, quite suddenly, that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us; it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back. i think you could put a comma after "us" and leave out "it".
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years. i would give "mirroring alarmingly" its own line. i like that line, that we learn through our very first (childhood) experiences, what to make of the world. a pretty heavy thought. reminds me of a friend once telling me "essentially we stay the same".
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams… "enough to share our dreams" - a real good line.. there´s a lot in it.
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity. maybe a line break after the comma " / and only then will sharing be necessity"
i love that thought: sharing becomes necessity.
Deluded once, now once again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad.
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down path.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves, suggest a line break after plan (just personal preference i guess)
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers…wiser men and less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from destiny, a known unknown. i think you could leave out "us". maybe even a line break after "divert"
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped just for rhythm maybe insert a "that"
of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see. i don´t quite know what to make of that ending, it seems almost unfinished. after all those insightful thoughts, is nihilism (which is what i got here) really the end?
this is a just a very quick impression and maybe i ll find other things to comment on later, but well, here it is.
...
Posts: 23
Threads: 6
Joined: Mar 2017
(12-29-2017, 12:52 AM)tectak Wrote:
We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble onwards as we learn to touch and feel. // we fall could be removed; use this kind of word later.
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way.
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we realise, quite suddenly, that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us; it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back.
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years.
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams…
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity. // 'love befalls us' change to lust, imo. the speaker is jaded.
Deluded once, now once again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad.
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down path. // 'not rise' doesn't belong in the falling part of this poem. i would suggest 'fail' but it would mess with the meter too much.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves,
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers…wiser men and less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from our "destiny", a known unknown.
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
Quite enjoyed this poem. There is a sense of irony in the words you've chosen: The speaker is young, probably mid to early twenties, and has all the gusto of a man who thinks he knows everything, but in doing so, casts aside his belief in others. Ayn Rand taken to the extremes; Stephen Daedelus saying "I will not serve!", these two contradict and I love it. I have underlined portions of the poem in which the meter raises some bells with me. Check and see if you agree. If they were purposeful, I am not completely convinced. The crescendo of this "picture poem" feels like it should contain some great, unironic glimmer of truth in it, but instead it is a reflection of childhood and learning that one is not extraordinary, which I feel is more depressing than it is grand; like a grace note following an overture's grand build up. Contrast with Michael McFee's 'In Medias Res', below:
Quote:his waist
like the plot
thickens, wedding
pants now breathtaking,
belt no longer the cinch
it once was, belly's cambium
expanding to match each birthday,
his body a wad of anonymous tissue
swung in the same centrifuge of years
that separates a house from its foundation
undermining sidewalks grim with joggers
and loose-filled graves and families
and stars collapsing on themselves,
no preservation society capable
of plugging entropy's dike
under his zipper's sneer
a belly hibernation-
soft, ready for
the kill
I have underlined the important word that cuts the poem from its sweet tone to its darker one. In your poem, the dichotomy isn't as pronounced as it is here with regards to word choice. The start and end of your poem do not change much in their message; He starts thinking the world is deluded, convinces himself the world is deluded, and then becomes deluded. I couldn't find the tipping point until much further down.
Overall, I enjoyed the poem; it is rife with the spirit of individual revolution found in many literary figures, from Telemachus to Enoljras.
Posts: 1,827
Threads: 305
Joined: Dec 2016
Tom,
I like this part (although I see no need to diverge from the standard, "into").
"back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see."
The overall metaphor is hardly fresh. A more compact version was in a Bible that my grandmother gave me.
The other point is that most of the poem has no rhythmic underpinning making it read more like prose and rather than a proper metaphor as I called it it is more what Lewis called "feigning", which tends to be an element of prose.
I'm not going to go line by line, as I don't think we will find the problem nor the solution there, but I will examine the first sentence.
"We start our life deluded by the world we hear around us, then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
If we take away the poetic lineation (probably need a semi-colon after "us" instead of a comma, unless you wish to insert "we" between "then" and "prise" and have two independent clauses), Then it reads quite like prose. "first there is this, then there is that." A lot of the poem appears to follow this same semi-logical causality, Which to me seems to me more in line with rhetoric. Sorry, but this is very much in a telling mode not a showing mode. I tried to push the first sentence towards a more poetic form, but just couldn't, just don't have the energy, sorry.
dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
Posts: 345
Threads: 34
Joined: Feb 2017
We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble onwards as we learn to touch and feel. -onward
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way. (-strange order
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we[suddenly] realise,quite suddenly,that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,of parts)
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us;[,] it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back.
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years. -alarmingly
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams… [.] mirroring
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity.
Deluded once, now once [and] again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad. -one too many once
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down[ward] path.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves, -is somesuch a word?
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers... [or]wiser men or [,]less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from our "destiny", a known unknown.
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
Hi Tectak,
Your poem touches more on wisdom than delusion to me. The form seems a bit awkward for me personally. Could be just needs cleaning up. I like the critique vagabond left. This poem and its form offered a hint of palindrome. Seems with some sharpening you might achieve it. I just touched on a straight read through, not in regards to palindrome.
Hope it's warm where you are (it's reading 2° F outdoors where I am!)!
-nibbed
there's always a better reason to love
Posts: 2,602
Threads: 303
Joined: Feb 2017
(12-29-2017, 01:32 AM)vagabond Wrote: (12-29-2017, 12:52 AM)tectak Wrote:
We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble onwards as we learn to touch and feel. i like the anatomical reference to sinews, can´t explain why, maybe the mechanical view
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way.
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we realise, quite suddenly, that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us; it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back. i think you could put a comma after "us" and leave out "it".
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years. i would give "mirroring alarmingly" its own line. i like that line, that we learn through our very first (childhood) experiences, what to make of the world. a pretty heavy thought. reminds me of a friend once telling me "essentially we stay the same".
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams… "enough to share our dreams" - a real good line.. there´s a lot in it.
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity. maybe a line break after the comma " / and only then will sharing be necessity"
i love that thought: sharing becomes necessity.
Deluded once, now once again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad.
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down path.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves, suggest a line break after plan (just personal preference i guess)
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers…wiser men and less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from destiny, a known unknown. i think you could leave out "us". maybe even a line break after "divert"
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped just for rhythm maybe insert a "that"
of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see. i don´t quite know what to make of that ending, it seems almost unfinished. after all those insightful thoughts, is nihilism (which is what i got here) really the end?
this is a just a very quick impression and maybe i ll find other things to comment on later, but well, here it is. Thanks vaga,
I read your comments with satisfaction in that there was a very clear point in summary...the ending. I will adjust, and credit to you. Other changers will/may follow. Thanks again,
best,
tectak
(01-03-2018, 05:03 AM)Erthona Wrote: Tom,
I like this part (although I see no need to diverge from the standard, "into").
"back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see."
The overall metaphor is hardly fresh. A more compact version was in a Bible that my grandmother gave me.
The other point is that most of the poem has no rhythmic underpinning making it read more like prose and rather than a proper metaphor as I called it it is more what Lewis called "feigning", which tends to be an element of prose.
I'm not going to go line by line, as I don't think we will find the problem nor the solution there, but I will examine the first sentence.
"We start our life deluded by the world we hear around us, then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
If we take away the poetic lineation (probably need a semi-colon after "us" instead of a comma, unless you wish to insert "we" between "then" and "prise" and have two independent clauses), Then it reads quite like prose. "first there is this, then there is that." A lot of the poem appears to follow this same semi-logical causality, Which to me seems to me more in line with rhetoric. Sorry, but this is very much in a telling mode not a showing mode. I tried to push the first sentence towards a more poetic form, but just couldn't, just don't have the energy, sorry.
dale Whatho dale....yes, I am as rusty as coffin nail. There's a lot in this that I though about but it IS contrived....a new avenue for me which may turn out to be a cul de sac...or bum in a bag to some. At least it is not centre aligned....
Nothing very original but just an attempt to relate to the time of year....what's new becomes old and more complex...that's the trend....then what is complex gets simpler as we get older. Perhaps I should have written that or just copied the tome of Steve Jobs, prior to his wowowowowow o last (alleged) words.
Work in progress...glad it got you out from under your stone. Best of everything for the coming days....see how cautious I have become?
(01-03-2018, 12:38 PM)nibbed Wrote: We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble onwards as we learn to touch and feel. -onward
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way. (-strange order
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we[suddenly] realise,quite suddenly,that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,of parts)
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us;[,] it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back.
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years. -alarmingly
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams… [.] mirroring
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity.
Deluded once, now once [and] again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad. -one too many once
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down[ward] path.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves, -is somesuch a word?
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers... [or]wiser men or [,]less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from our "destiny", a known unknown.
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
Hi Tectak,
Your poem touches more on wisdom than delusion to me. The form seems a bit awkward for me personally. Could be just needs cleaning up. I like the critique vagabond left. This poem and its form offered a hint of palindrome. Seems with some sharpening you might achieve it. I just touched on a straight read through, not in regards to palindrome.
Hope it's warm where you are (it's reading 2° F outdoors where I am!)!
-nibbed
Hi nibbed,
I am getting flack for the form....justfiably. I tried the old " sarts off little, getting bigger...getting little again" metaphor for life but you are all so damned plumbed in these days it just won't wash even if true  I look at my grumaticule errors and sigh...things are getting so subjective BUT there is little defence against you word-fixes. All will be reshuffled.
Best,
tectak
(12-29-2017, 01:58 AM)AttnAttack Wrote: (12-29-2017, 12:52 AM)tectak Wrote:
We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real.
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble onwards as we learn to touch and feel. // we fall could be removed; use this kind of word later.
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way.
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we realise, quite suddenly, that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us; it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back.
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years.
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams…
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity. // 'love befalls us' change to lust, imo. the speaker is jaded.
Deluded once, now once again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad.
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down path. // 'not rise' doesn't belong in the falling part of this poem. i would suggest 'fail' but it would mess with the meter too much.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves,
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers…wiser men and less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from our "destiny", a known unknown.
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
This is it,
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
Quite enjoyed this poem. There is a sense of irony in the words you've chosen: The speaker is young, probably mid to early twenties, and has all the gusto of a man who thinks he knows everything, but in doing so, casts aside his belief in others. Ayn Rand taken to the extremes; Stephen Daedelus saying "I will not serve!", these two contradict and I love it. I have underlined portions of the poem in which the meter raises some bells with me. Check and see if you agree. If they were purposeful, I am not completely convinced. The crescendo of this "picture poem" feels like it should contain some great, unironic glimmer of truth in it, but instead it is a reflection of childhood and learning that one is not extraordinary, which I feel is more depressing than it is grand; like a grace note following an overture's grand build up. Contrast with Michael McFee's 'In Medias Res', below:
Quote:his waist
like the plot
thickens, wedding
pants now breathtaking,
belt no longer the cinch
it once was, belly's cambium
expanding to match each birthday,
his body a wad of anonymous tissue
swung in the same centrifuge of years
that separates a house from its foundation
undermining sidewalks grim with joggers
and loose-filled graves and families
and stars collapsing on themselves,
no preservation society capable
of plugging entropy's dike
under his zipper's sneer
a belly hibernation-
soft, ready for
the kill
I have underlined the important word that cuts the poem from its sweet tone to its darker one. In your poem, the dichotomy isn't as pronounced as it is here with regards to word choice. The start and end of your poem do not change much in their message; He starts thinking the world is deluded, convinces himself the world is deluded, and then becomes deluded. I couldn't find the tipping point until much further down.
Overall, I enjoyed the poem; it is rife with the spirit of individual revolution found in many literary figures, from Telemachus to Enoljras.
Hello Attn,
you are a keen observer. There simply MUST be changes to make in this because you have "seen" what I did not...and though the "character" is, by my reading, in his final years I never thought of the "thrust" of the admittedly ubiquitous metaphor being so damp a squib as to to be "jaded". It must be me....guilty on all counts.
The ending will be er...modified...for vaga....but I fear reprisals
Best,
tectak
Posts: 298
Threads: 45
Joined: Jul 2014
(12-29-2017, 12:52 AM)tectak Wrote:
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
Now blind
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
3rd line from end. Is that better vaga?
well, in my opinion, yes.
nihilism not gone but changed in a way that makes sense to me (, who probably uses the word nihilism in a wrong way)
i like the twist "stripped of all delusion/ now blind"
...
Posts: 61
Threads: 25
Joined: Jul 2017
We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real. the paradox of reality could be taken less literally as you anticipate the morale of the poem, to embrace one's destiny that which is "unknown", rather than the more basic epistemology which you demonstrate---albeit quite succintly---here
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble you use the verb "to stumble" twice in the poem which, demonstrates a contextual change and anticipates a measure of growth over time. this is effective and also clearly intentional, since the word "trip" is offset and surrounded by the change in meaning of the word stumble; here we have a sequence of images which reflects a different ordering of "groping" after one's destiny. This is all we can to do so without knowing precisely how our destiny will be fulfilled or realized.
onwards as we learn to touch and feel.
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way.
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we realise, quite suddenly, that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us; it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back.
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years.
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams…
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity.
Deluded once, now once again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad.
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down path.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves,
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers…wiser men and less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from our "destiny", a known unknown.
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
Now blind
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
3rd line from end. Is that better vaga?
the poem concludes with a paradox, which is not always merited in poetry; at times, being a mere device for wrapping up an unconcluded poem. Yet here the poem has merited and rightly achieved this lasting sense of paradox,
plutocratic polyphonous pandering
Posts: 2,602
Threads: 303
Joined: Feb 2017
(01-03-2018, 11:37 PM)Thunderembargo Wrote: We start our life deluded
by the world we hear around us,
then prise our eyes to open to the sight of what is real. the paradox of reality could be taken less literally as you anticipate the morale of the poem, to embrace one's destiny that which is "unknown", rather than the more basic epistemology which you demonstrate---albeit quite succintly---here
At first no strength nor sinew lifts to higher skies above us and we fall and stumble you use the verb "to stumble" twice in the poem which, demonstrates a contextual change and anticipates a measure of growth over time. this is effective and also clearly intentional, since the word "trip" is offset and surrounded by the change in meaning of the word stumble; here we have a sequence of images which reflects a different ordering of "groping" after one's destiny. This is all we can to do so without knowing precisely how our destiny will be fulfilled or realized.
onwards as we learn to touch and feel.
Toes, then knees, then feet… then free, from arms beneath our own raised hands, which held and supported as we went our jerky way.
This is the first delusion and it lasts until we realise, quite suddenly, that what we thought we had ‘til now was ours to keep and ours alone,
only to find our gift of life was not unique. Childhood ran beside us; it kicked and bit and pulled our hair and screamed when we hit back.
Through this we learned that others, too, have feelings, mirroring alarmingly our own…in some it comes quite early on, in others after years.
With words gleaned from a dictionary drifting in our noisy space, we pick up, more or less, enough to share our dreams…
and dreams are all we have until some other love befalls us, and only then does sharing become necessity.
Deluded once, now once again, how proud we are, how big our car, how wonderful our country pad.
Of course, it was not ever true that things were equal (or seemed so)…the weak will trip and stay behind,
some will not rise to touch the sky, some will fall before a day, while others take a slow, down path.
None care enough, not you or I…we who held fast to somesuch plan. Not a scheme we made ourselves,
a given route from where we were to where we went; oh, no…delusionary gods,
advisors, mentors, coaches, teachers…wiser men and less wise preachers…
all conspired to divert us from our "destiny", a known unknown.
The last long breath that draws us stumbling
back in to a world now real,
leaves us stripped
of all delusion.
Now blind
at last,
I see.
Tectak(feeling fine)2017
3rd line from end. Is that better vaga?
the poem concludes with a paradox, which is not always merited in poetry; at times, being a mere device for wrapping up an unconcluded poem. Yet here the poem has merited and rightly achieved this lasting sense of paradox,
Hello thun,
I believe you are more right than wrong....there is still some mischief in words. Delusion in the title, but as the latin root "deluisionem" is associated with a mental state or condition, I tried very hard ( see reply to Erthona) to choose my words....it proved difficult to make the "seeing" quintessential...that is, "illusional" not " delusional"... cause and effect. We become deluded by illusionary means...we look, and are misled by seeing... rather more than we think, and are deluded by our pensive conclusions. It is a gerund of a poem, not much thinking, but a lot of stumbling, jerking,
Thanks ,
tectak
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