There is such depth, hope and richness to your work. Words are the jewels you possess! Time moves differently around them, it thickens, pools, flows, rushes and slows.
I read once that “the poem is the alchemist, and the poet is the work” … your poems speak deeply of this truth. Thank you for sharing your work! Blessings always, Deborah.
Deborah, you ought to write soon, so I may once more deposit an entire prosaic essay on your comments.
You flatter me immensely; I’m still a young-nothing far outstretched over some end of some world. I do my best to dampen time, to become wiser with digestion, and share a universe with myself that isn’t entirely composed of collision.
You truly were a marvelous find and I can’t count my luck with numbers that faithfully translate it. Thank you, really. Thank you.
I was kind of locked out – a tomb – for some of the other bits further on – but in the main it “spoke to me”. I liked very much David fluttering on his own amidst such environmental hugeness.
Oh, thanks Bruce. 11 is the one I like the least, actually, which is heavily indicated by the fact that I opened with it.
David is a dear friend one mine; his sister recently died of a tumour, and we have been spending some time together here and there. Coffees (finally) and some hiking. He doesn’t have a lot of folks in this country. His grieving was at a distance, since he wasn’t able to fly home. It’s an awful situation to be in.
I helped him digest things a bit and now, I’m the one digesting it.
I’m lucky to have you as a reader, Bruce.
I don’t believe I’m a poet at all; I’m of the school of thought that one needs publishing to acquire certain titles, as we’re all writers but few of us are authors. But it’s all nomenclature and titivation.
I’m glad I’m potent enough to foster your thought, and I realise how difficult that might be. It’s beyond valuable to me. And I get the monumental honour of reading your comedic posts and jesting with you, which is, by itself, priceless. I’m a pretty bland, saturnine person in the outside universe.
Yippee! I MIGHT be considered a poet because I had two poems published in an anthology last year, and I had a poem printed in my High School magazine that I saw in an anthology 40 years later under someone else’s name!
I like bland and saturnine. When I win the lottery that’s all I want to be.
And you have a poet’s soul which according to my definition makes you a poet.
I have been, and am to this day, sometimes plagiarised here on WordPress, but I never saw an instance of such outside the platform, and I would be odd, since I’m not quite at a level that would justify having anything stolen.
Now, stealing from a 40 years old High School magazine, that’s quite a smart thing to do. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if 90% of magazine publications today were stolen from high schoolers, given the quality of what they publish.
I like that you assume I have a soul; being so bland and saturnine, people often confound me with a scarecrow.
It certainly doesn’t feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes you feel your density of being so absolutely, it’s hard to even lift a concept from your mind. It’s hard to take flight, and what is one without one’s fancies? A husk, I feel.
But I think hope is ineffaceable from any and all states. Or I certainly hope so.
Excuse me Bob, I didn’t toss out anything, you ought to colloquy with David.
To clarify: for a while, it was really difficult to get him to smile, for the reasons aforementioned. The first time he smiled, to my noticing, was when we hiked and he reached the top of a small hill. It felt pleasant, a sense of finality, but it wasn’t my doing, thus, a cold glory. It’s a Portuguese idiom to call something a cold glory whenever you obtained the result you wanted but not by your own efforts. The tossed out was, I suppose, the levity of the thing.
The poem was partially inspired by James Blunt, the best poet of our generation, whose face is entirely real and not at all computer-generated.
With your vocabulary it’s more like delicate trigonometry… 😛
The repetoire of words you source from Portuguese, French, Latin…(have I left out a few..polyglot?) …it’s a delight to look up the etymology (and weird journeys) of words… Thank you
Good poem. It seems like it’s a poem about someone struggling to get the recognition they deserve. Like they’re struggling with the notion of selling out their passion, while dealing with Schizophrenia.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. BTW, you should be published. There’s no reason good poetry like this shouldn’t be. It is a problem with our modern age that most of the best aren’t being rewarded. I related to the poem, and when you said “Moraine”, the reference seemed to be to delusions.
I really appreciated the poem. I didn’t want you to think I was being cruel. It really is good, and a lot of people can relate to David. I know I do.
You didn’t offend me, Brandon. I just hadn’t the time to reply sooner. I have no authorial tyranny over my poems; you are free to interpret them as you may. I do not, however, understand the associative amalgamation that would pair moraines with schizophrenia. As Bruce detailed above, the poem was meant to create a juxtaposition between the immensity of nature and the immensity of otherness that we can’t fathom; that an exploration of the Swiss Moraines is, in scope, as ambitious as understanding David then, what moves David, what makes him flutter.
I’m happy that you resonated with him, no matter what you saw in the poem; and I’m happy that you were able to see something else. That means my job was well-concluded. In regards to publication, I have not yet sought it, thus, cannot place blame on the modern age yet, but I’m sure that I eventually will be able to blame it, haha. It’s inevitable for many of us.
You don’t have to publish any of these last comments, unless you want to. I just wanted to share with you what I thought. It’s your theme of otherness. I totally get it. I just can’t express it with my own words. You did such a beautiful job.
Like, just acknowledging the reality of otherness, it’s a huge thing. Like, so awesome, just like the poem suggests. I wish I could say it like you did. That was a brilliant metaphor. There is otherness. And it is an impasse.
I shall keep the comments to myself, then, as effigies of the muddled, tortuous process some go through to understand my feeble words, haha. There, even in this very post, a plethora of information regarding the existence of both 23. and 47., which may aid one in how they were conceived and felt at the time they were produced. Grief is, of course, a depressed state, or is within the spectrum of depressed states.
The subtle sadness that takes years to form, as I see it, is the selfish being, which we are encouraged to spawn and maintain, for our own sentimental protection, just as we found division from nature in order to create and maintain a physical protection. I tried, then, to establish isometry between nature and other, both in their properties and how we interact with them.
I’m thankful that you find my poems worthy of publication, but I largely don’t; I do not feel ready for the commitment of *selling* work, which would require a certain degree of faith and maturity in it that I do not yet have. But I do very much appreciate all the encouragement!
Well, I was thinking about your poem all night that night. I truly was. I get the concept. It’s okay to write difficult literature. It sets the metaphor in better than simple writing. It becomes your own, when you’ve struggled with it for that long.
I totally got what you are saying. I really did. I get it, but you expressed it perfectly in the poem. I just like to analyze works of literature, and I’m very verbal in my thinking process. And I think it’s good sometimes to struggle with a concept in reading.
It’s near impossible to publish poems right now. But, I’m trying to change that. Personally, I think your poems are worthy of publishing, and it’s unethical not to publish them, so I’m trying to break the ground with my poetry—which is also difficult. It just has to happen that people learn the point of reading poetry. It takes more than one read through to fully comprehend, and some poems you could spend a lifetime reading, and only scratch the surface. It’s the beauty of reading.
As a last note, that was what I was meditating on. Otherness, The concept of listening to what someone else had said, rather than be fixated on my own ideas, and fully understanding what someone else had said. Just taking in the massive existence of there being otherness. It is like a Moraine.
I like your character David, too. I feel like him. The first read through, I had gotten Moraine mixed up with Murrain. But that you explained my malapropism, I couldn’t help but think about it all night.
I hope you and I can be published some day, and I hope you and I can be peers in a literary revival movement.
Nicely, nicely. (My English teacher once banned the word nice.). I’m learning a lot below the line (so to speak in the language of online newspaper readers.
Curiously and from what I’ve gathered, many newspapers nowadays, especially in chronicles and opinion articles, use chaffs & chaffs of fustian language. They are even worse than I, and I’m as prolix as a waterfall.
João, let me take the time to let you know how influential your poems are. They certainly are very unique and they have this, I don’t know, a mystic aura about them that cause me to delve even deeper into your words. From all the poems I have ever read, yours seem to be up a very wonderful alley. I love how you have so much to say about life in those seemingly random yet inspired pieces of poems. Glad to have come across the blog. I’m so stoked and do not have the right words to appreciate your poetry without sounding too pretentious, but all I can say is that I would wait to read even more from you, always. Peace and greetings from Sui generis 💛💛
Yours admiringly,
Shanyu
Shanyu, that means a whole lot! Thank you so much. Don’t worry about sounding pretentious, I do it all the time, and not even on purpose. It overjoys me that folks as you find something important in my poems, it truly does, it makes them justified.
I’m very grateful.
You are welcome João. That is so kind of you to say. You certainly have a wonderful way around words. It brings me so much pleasure to read you. I might not be able to respond to respond to all of your posts, but please know that you have a very special place in my journey. Your words, oh how kind, always inspire, and I hope they will always continue to. Take care.
Always,
Shanyu💛
Things are great, Warren. A bit tired of exams, especially during this sensitive time, as they seem especially taxing. I, too, am hopeful that things are well for you. And do write soon. More poetry, if you can. Parsimony and patience are magnificent attributes, but so is talent and eagerness, and you have one while I have the other.
(and it’s so warm that you find some of my verses pithy. What else would one ever like to hear?)
I’m glad that you are! It means a lot. Though folks as you give me the Bernard sensation. There is a tenuous line between profundity and artistic puerility that I can’t always balance in a proper way, and your eyes are those that more quickly notice the gaps.
But, as Louis once said, you are the ones that inspire poetry!
I eagerly await your high-tide. Truly. It will be a glorious one.
(CALIATH) 
nice
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks, Rama. Enthusiastic!
LikeLiked by 1 person
There is such depth, hope and richness to your work. Words are the jewels you possess! Time moves differently around them, it thickens, pools, flows, rushes and slows.
I read once that “the poem is the alchemist, and the poet is the work” … your poems speak deeply of this truth. Thank you for sharing your work! Blessings always, Deborah.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Deborah, you ought to write soon, so I may once more deposit an entire prosaic essay on your comments.
You flatter me immensely; I’m still a young-nothing far outstretched over some end of some world. I do my best to dampen time, to become wiser with digestion, and share a universe with myself that isn’t entirely composed of collision.
You truly were a marvelous find and I can’t count my luck with numbers that faithfully translate it. Thank you, really. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
11. definitely made it.
I was kind of locked out – a tomb – for some of the other bits further on – but in the main it “spoke to me”. I liked very much David fluttering on his own amidst such environmental hugeness.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Oh, thanks Bruce. 11 is the one I like the least, actually, which is heavily indicated by the fact that I opened with it.
David is a dear friend one mine; his sister recently died of a tumour, and we have been spending some time together here and there. Coffees (finally) and some hiking. He doesn’t have a lot of folks in this country. His grieving was at a distance, since he wasn’t able to fly home. It’s an awful situation to be in.
I helped him digest things a bit and now, I’m the one digesting it.
I’m lucky to have you as a reader, Bruce.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for the kind response, João-Maria. You are the poet online at present who makes me ponder the most (in a good way!)
LikeLiked by 1 person
It would be off-the-charts hilarious if you punctuated that statement by saying I’m the only poet you follow.
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Perhaps you are the only poet I follow – the rest (I hope they don’t see this) make verse. I/m not above being off-the-charts hilarious.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I don’t believe I’m a poet at all; I’m of the school of thought that one needs publishing to acquire certain titles, as we’re all writers but few of us are authors. But it’s all nomenclature and titivation.
I’m glad I’m potent enough to foster your thought, and I realise how difficult that might be. It’s beyond valuable to me. And I get the monumental honour of reading your comedic posts and jesting with you, which is, by itself, priceless. I’m a pretty bland, saturnine person in the outside universe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yippee! I MIGHT be considered a poet because I had two poems published in an anthology last year, and I had a poem printed in my High School magazine that I saw in an anthology 40 years later under someone else’s name!
I like bland and saturnine. When I win the lottery that’s all I want to be.
And you have a poet’s soul which according to my definition makes you a poet.
LikeLike
I have been, and am to this day, sometimes plagiarised here on WordPress, but I never saw an instance of such outside the platform, and I would be odd, since I’m not quite at a level that would justify having anything stolen.
Now, stealing from a 40 years old High School magazine, that’s quite a smart thing to do. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if 90% of magazine publications today were stolen from high schoolers, given the quality of what they publish.
I like that you assume I have a soul; being so bland and saturnine, people often confound me with a scarecrow.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The stolen poem was awful:
Vietnam: yes, Spring is there now
but what can be seen but the splattered jaw
of the soldier lying, dying there now…etc.
I would love to be a scarecrow; standing all day in fields of flowers waving my arms. I feel another poem coming on…
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Hope can live, sometimes shockingly and surprisingly, in that excess of being.
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It certainly doesn’t feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes you feel your density of being so absolutely, it’s hard to even lift a concept from your mind. It’s hard to take flight, and what is one without one’s fancies? A husk, I feel.
But I think hope is ineffaceable from any and all states. Or I certainly hope so.
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I occasionally toss out food when it gets cold, much like you toss out glory, apparently.
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Excuse me Bob, I didn’t toss out anything, you ought to colloquy with David.
To clarify: for a while, it was really difficult to get him to smile, for the reasons aforementioned. The first time he smiled, to my noticing, was when we hiked and he reached the top of a small hill. It felt pleasant, a sense of finality, but it wasn’t my doing, thus, a cold glory. It’s a Portuguese idiom to call something a cold glory whenever you obtained the result you wanted but not by your own efforts. The tossed out was, I suppose, the levity of the thing.
The poem was partially inspired by James Blunt, the best poet of our generation, whose face is entirely real and not at all computer-generated.
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That’s actually pretty cool. There’s nothing in there that I can taunt you about in the least. I do like the cold glory phrase.
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I know, right? James Blunt truly is the apogee of modern literature, especially when he is suffused with such a real, unaltered face.
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It’s all about the face.
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Glad these ones made it. Your writing that is. Thank you for sharing
I like cold glory tossed out
Reminds me of feeling foolish of feeling proud.. especially when dwarfed among mountains (even leg-shorn ones 🙂
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See? The delicate geometry of my poems! Haha. Thank you, truly.
(mountains are very small in Portugal)
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With your vocabulary it’s more like delicate trigonometry… 😛
The repetoire of words you source from Portuguese, French, Latin…(have I left out a few..polyglot?) …it’s a delight to look up the etymology (and weird journeys) of words… Thank you
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beautiful. it feels like a waterfall
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Oh, thank you, Emily. It sorta does, actually. It tails and cuneates, which is rather interesting.
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Good poem. It seems like it’s a poem about someone struggling to get the recognition they deserve. Like they’re struggling with the notion of selling out their passion, while dealing with Schizophrenia.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. BTW, you should be published. There’s no reason good poetry like this shouldn’t be. It is a problem with our modern age that most of the best aren’t being rewarded. I related to the poem, and when you said “Moraine”, the reference seemed to be to delusions.
I really appreciated the poem. I didn’t want you to think I was being cruel. It really is good, and a lot of people can relate to David. I know I do.
LikeLiked by 2 people
You didn’t offend me, Brandon. I just hadn’t the time to reply sooner. I have no authorial tyranny over my poems; you are free to interpret them as you may. I do not, however, understand the associative amalgamation that would pair moraines with schizophrenia. As Bruce detailed above, the poem was meant to create a juxtaposition between the immensity of nature and the immensity of otherness that we can’t fathom; that an exploration of the Swiss Moraines is, in scope, as ambitious as understanding David then, what moves David, what makes him flutter.
I’m happy that you resonated with him, no matter what you saw in the poem; and I’m happy that you were able to see something else. That means my job was well-concluded. In regards to publication, I have not yet sought it, thus, cannot place blame on the modern age yet, but I’m sure that I eventually will be able to blame it, haha. It’s inevitable for many of us.
Anyways, best wishes, Brandon!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You don’t have to publish any of these last comments, unless you want to. I just wanted to share with you what I thought. It’s your theme of otherness. I totally get it. I just can’t express it with my own words. You did such a beautiful job.
Like, just acknowledging the reality of otherness, it’s a huge thing. Like, so awesome, just like the poem suggests. I wish I could say it like you did. That was a brilliant metaphor. There is otherness. And it is an impasse.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I shall keep the comments to myself, then, as effigies of the muddled, tortuous process some go through to understand my feeble words, haha. There, even in this very post, a plethora of information regarding the existence of both 23. and 47., which may aid one in how they were conceived and felt at the time they were produced. Grief is, of course, a depressed state, or is within the spectrum of depressed states.
The subtle sadness that takes years to form, as I see it, is the selfish being, which we are encouraged to spawn and maintain, for our own sentimental protection, just as we found division from nature in order to create and maintain a physical protection. I tried, then, to establish isometry between nature and other, both in their properties and how we interact with them.
I’m thankful that you find my poems worthy of publication, but I largely don’t; I do not feel ready for the commitment of *selling* work, which would require a certain degree of faith and maturity in it that I do not yet have. But I do very much appreciate all the encouragement!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, I was thinking about your poem all night that night. I truly was. I get the concept. It’s okay to write difficult literature. It sets the metaphor in better than simple writing. It becomes your own, when you’ve struggled with it for that long.
I totally got what you are saying. I really did. I get it, but you expressed it perfectly in the poem. I just like to analyze works of literature, and I’m very verbal in my thinking process. And I think it’s good sometimes to struggle with a concept in reading.
It’s near impossible to publish poems right now. But, I’m trying to change that. Personally, I think your poems are worthy of publishing, and it’s unethical not to publish them, so I’m trying to break the ground with my poetry—which is also difficult. It just has to happen that people learn the point of reading poetry. It takes more than one read through to fully comprehend, and some poems you could spend a lifetime reading, and only scratch the surface. It’s the beauty of reading.
As a last note, that was what I was meditating on. Otherness, The concept of listening to what someone else had said, rather than be fixated on my own ideas, and fully understanding what someone else had said. Just taking in the massive existence of there being otherness. It is like a Moraine.
I like your character David, too. I feel like him. The first read through, I had gotten Moraine mixed up with Murrain. But that you explained my malapropism, I couldn’t help but think about it all night.
I hope you and I can be published some day, and I hope you and I can be peers in a literary revival movement.
God bless!
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Brandon, I’m truly happy that my poem meant that much to you. I’m saddened that one can no longer visit your blog!
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That would explain why I haven’t been getting any likes recently. Lol. I thought I fixed that. Thanks.
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I think it’s up. Thank you for the kind message.
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Nicely, nicely. (My English teacher once banned the word nice.). I’m learning a lot below the line (so to speak in the language of online newspaper readers.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Curiously and from what I’ve gathered, many newspapers nowadays, especially in chronicles and opinion articles, use chaffs & chaffs of fustian language. They are even worse than I, and I’m as prolix as a waterfall.
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Joao-Maria, you are a poet’s poet!
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Oh, thank you, Lance. That means a lot. I do the best I can, and if it means something to someone else, that is what means everything to me.
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It is my very sincere pleasure, Joao-Maria.
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Your work is stellar! Each piece masterfully crafted!
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Eugenia, you’re the stellar one! You’re such an important pillar of this community, it means a lot that you find some mastery in my crafts.
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You write deep within from your heart. Really of high quality !
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Thank you!
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João, let me take the time to let you know how influential your poems are. They certainly are very unique and they have this, I don’t know, a mystic aura about them that cause me to delve even deeper into your words. From all the poems I have ever read, yours seem to be up a very wonderful alley. I love how you have so much to say about life in those seemingly random yet inspired pieces of poems. Glad to have come across the blog. I’m so stoked and do not have the right words to appreciate your poetry without sounding too pretentious, but all I can say is that I would wait to read even more from you, always. Peace and greetings from Sui generis 💛💛
Yours admiringly,
Shanyu
LikeLiked by 1 person
Shanyu, that means a whole lot! Thank you so much. Don’t worry about sounding pretentious, I do it all the time, and not even on purpose. It overjoys me that folks as you find something important in my poems, it truly does, it makes them justified.
I’m very grateful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are welcome João. That is so kind of you to say. You certainly have a wonderful way around words. It brings me so much pleasure to read you. I might not be able to respond to respond to all of your posts, but please know that you have a very special place in my journey. Your words, oh how kind, always inspire, and I hope they will always continue to. Take care.
Always,
Shanyu💛
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Beautiful
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Very Good Poem
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perfect words
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Ah thanks Yuri, you’re an awesome creator, means a lot. I really like your paintings and music.
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Really enjoyed this Joao. I tend to lean towards the pithy side of things, and so,
“you’re one day struck with yourself as if lightning had metal plumes and their sounds were scents as they fell”
(The entirety of 47.2 but specifically), “All of your expression is a sacrifice”
and
“let no destruction differ from your own”
really stood out to me.
As usual, great work.
Hope things are well (enough).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Things are great, Warren. A bit tired of exams, especially during this sensitive time, as they seem especially taxing. I, too, am hopeful that things are well for you. And do write soon. More poetry, if you can. Parsimony and patience are magnificent attributes, but so is talent and eagerness, and you have one while I have the other.
(and it’s so warm that you find some of my verses pithy. What else would one ever like to hear?)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh good! Rest is for the dead, eh?
Personally, I’ve been pretty dry lately but, I feel a high tide coming!
As for the humility at play, I won’t accept it.
Instead, I’ve taken your comment as a clever slight. Which I prefer.
At any rate, I’m looking forward to more of your work João.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m glad that you are! It means a lot. Though folks as you give me the Bernard sensation. There is a tenuous line between profundity and artistic puerility that I can’t always balance in a proper way, and your eyes are those that more quickly notice the gaps.
But, as Louis once said, you are the ones that inspire poetry!
I eagerly await your high-tide. Truly. It will be a glorious one.
LikeLiked by 1 person