Sacrarium
I hear the long sigh of spent
willow--an elegy sunk deep
into the wind's worn
grooves. Hooves trail off,
and the lull of leaves not
yet embers resonates and fades.
All bound in roots and
hardened dirt, the trees just
lean and whisper. No birds
linger, nor afoot are game
to blight the sacred shrine.
Only rays of light loom to
trespass in the hollows,
and no man ventures, ever,
forth to consecrated ground.
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Author's Comments
reed: so i get the concept of the sanctuary its beautiful
reed: but what is the idea behind that me: the sacracrium is where holy objects are kept. this sacrarium is just dying/dead stuff, no living things go there. its about the separation of life and death and the natural, mystical nature of passing on. |
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February 20, 2009
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Comments
Firstly, there's none of that 'tween and afore and other old English irritants. I know they serve a purpose when you DO use them, just not my cup of tea.
Secondly, I think what draws me to this is the plain picture anyone can see. No distracting spectacular language (ahem) or too twisted metaphors (well, there's room for that in poetry, obviously, but I'm glad there's none here). That probably comes from my hokku-love.
Nevertheless, your interesting use of words in the beginning only added to the charm of the piece, I feel it sort of dies down at the end. I guess you could argue it points to the subject matter and adds to the mood. But I'd like to think of the deserted holy place as mystical and magical somehow, left to itself for those reasons, and not out of being boring.
So, how was that?
--
Counting on your feedback.
this poem is an example of my extended symbolism/allegory where i just take a scene and put it in terms of something more significant. this one was the first of its style and ive been evolving it all this year. its definitely one of my plainer ones, which, as you said, serves it decently. i havent read many hokku, but i think i understand what youre getting at.
i wanted the poem to read like a sentence that ends in a whisper....something that just fades away into memory without the ringing of pronounced enunciation covering over it. i think you experienced that.
that was quite a fine commentary, o marble one. it was pleasant to read and i appreciate it! im embarrassed for you to have free rein over my gallery (eek), but im glad youve found something you like. and by the way, ill get to your newest poem after some sleep.
--
i lick, i pant, i love. i am a wallaby.
You could always, you know... delete? the ones that are to be disregarded. Or not, lets everyone see your process.
Well, glad I don't blow, will set the chronological thing and try again later
--
Counting on your feedback.
if i deleted the ones i didnt like, i probably wouldnt have an account left to manage :-s. ive sent a few especially heinous ones to the scraps whatever thing but mostly i just....let them be. meh.
good luck to you! hopefully youll like those ones more, mhm. i do.
--
i lick, i pant, i love. i am a wallaby.
--
"She is mine." Edward's low voice was suddenly dark, not as composed as before. "I didn't say I would fight fair." -Edward Cullen [Eclipse]
-P.S. Twilight Movies=Fail
--
i lick, i pant, i love. i am a wallaby.
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