I sang of the dancing stars, I sang of the daedal* earth, And of heaven, and the giant wars, And love, and death, and birth. –Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Hymn Of Pan“ *Daedal = intricate, artistic, richly adorned, ingenious in form or function… What a marvelous word. As promised, a picture with the sun visible. Bring it to full size, and just wander among the stalks for a while. Find a particularly alluring edge and linger there, feeling the sun as it traces both your edges, and the edges of that where you now, for the moment, reside. Feel the warmth seep into your bones, as it always does during the summer months. Luxuriate in the softness of the cottony flower at the top. Embrace the cooling breezes as they waft across you, for the sun is warm at this time of the year. Relax… sit a spell… Take one (1) of the above paragraph as often as needed, over the next five months. Advertisements
The following is a poem I wrote some time ago, in the style of a Cento; which is a form composed entirely of quotes from other authors. A conglomeration, if you will; a grouping together of lines that moved me in their own individual manners – such that I simply had to put them in touch with each other. Do not look for meter, or any of the more conventional techniques normally associated with poetry. You’ll not find them here. The only criteria for inclusion was intent and emotional meaning. Rhythm and rhyme were not consulted, nor was metaphorical simultaneity. I had something I needed to get off my chest, and only these lines would do.