Popular Posts
-
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
-
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
-
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
-
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
-
Amazed at the level of interest shown in my recent images of hands and feet, though less so in the question of whether they or the face bes...
Wednesday, 3 April 2013
Our Castle of Blown Glass.
We were the lucky generation -
or might have been
had we been stewards of the things we had,
not taken them for granted.
We lived the life and thought the thought,
whatever thought was a la mode,
whatever brought us Kudos by the K.
Freemen of the Castle of blown glass,
we counted ourselves Bless'd.
Would we sit to write a song? It wrote itself.
If we were hungry, fruit fell from the trees.
In every way and every day
life was ever sweet.
And in the glass walls we could see
the beauty that was us, the way society
takes nature by the scruff.
And through the walls another grace --
Nature the provider, ever offering the teat
and there for ever at our beck and call.
Elsewhere than here -- perhaps, we thought,
where the footings stood
on the long sleep of the long departed --
fissures ran, the famous glass had clouded.
We searched hard for the flaw,
distraught to think we could not see
what was before our eyes. Outsiders,
hungry near to death. Long columns of them.
Displaced and dispossessed...
We did not see them make their way
to a new and denser darkness
that we had never seen.
We were seduced by feelings of eternity;
the permanence of life. It was not so.
The fault lines ran through us, and only then
through that which bore our name.
We had the eyes that dim when strangers starve.
What use to us were walls of glass?
They saw no more, we saw no more,
than through a wall of brass.
Written For Mary's prompt The Castle of Glass at Poetry Jam.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
29 comments:
Oh David, the shards of your lines scratch my soul.Knowing what I know [and am not allowed to tell], I can barely stand to read this. We had paradise in the palm of our hands it seemed, but it was only our hands and therefor could not morally last.
This poem is bound to touch everybody in different ways, but deeply.
Do agree with what Aprille says Dave - your poems do indeed touch the soul.
Personal achievement and happiness versus being a caring member of the outside world. Seems our thought are in the same place this week. My started by reading a biography of Pete Seeger. It seems such a monumental task for one person to change the world that we forget and make our own personal world comfortable and become proud of that...
A wonderful piece, deep, and thoughtful...seemed honest to the bone.
smiles...interesting dave, i think somewhere along the line we made a turn from a society that cared about community to one that was self obsessed...and we took a wrong turn...
aprille
An amazing comment, such as I never expected to receive and which means more than I can say to me. I do thank you so much for it.
The Weaver of Grass
And so reassuring to hear that your thoughts run along similar lines. A really encouraging response. Thank you.
Carl
A most pertinent analysis, I think. I am sure that's saying it exactly as it is.
annell
A warm welcome to you and many thanks for your kind words.
Brian
Yes, that also seem to me to be a spot-on summing up of how we got here. Thanks for the comment.
A hard hitting poem, Dave; but we deserve the hard hit for sure. And yes, the fruit (synonymous for many things) fell from the tree, and we did think it would always be that way..... But so true we did not notice the long columns of outsiders (the starving around the world? or - the followers of Al Quaida? -the disenchanted everywhere?) made their way when we were sleeping, and what we thought was permanent was not. And yes, the fault line ran through us...perhaps we finally knew, but the glass walls were already gone.
Dave, we both seem to be in a darker place than usual this week--intense and well written poem! So easy to be self-centered when life is good and avert our eyes from the sad realities.
a fact of our humanity, the shortsightedness of today; however the poet prepares the lamp for darker days
Happy Easter
much love...
A wonderful piece Dave. Loved the title.
You've hit the nail on the head with this. Excellent.
Wonderfully written, the insights are so true and apply to all of us, this speaks to my heart.
Happy Napowrimo - My Day Three is here
This poem has a very classical feel, if I may use an outmoded term--gracious and rich, so that the hard message cuts even more sharply. Strong, expertly crafted work, David, and a pleasure to read as well despite the bitter truth at the core.
Thoughtful and rather deep. For this, as Shakespeare used to say, much thanks.156
That final stanza brought it home..seduced by thoughts of eternity...really loved that.
Fault lines running through us --- a memorable image as are all the others in this poem. What a lovely work. So much to consider.
... 'it was not so .. the fault lines ran through us' ~~~ a bitter truth. Powerful message, Dave.
What use to us were walls of glass?- There is something of the forlorn and the yearning for a return to Eden. Something lost but also provided in grace. Lots of elements.
A pitiless powerful analysis, I wonder if you talking about the condition of the 68 generation from then to now..
Ah hindsight is so bitterly clear isn't it? This is such a lament - so powerful, Dave. Thank you ...
The castle of blown glass struck by the Medusa stare and turned to brass! A dynamic poem that somehow yearns for "hippie" days and the perspectives of a fragile eternity!
Ouch. Too true - and painful with it.
This is wonderful, Dave. I especially like-
And in the glass walls we could see
the beauty that was us, the way society
takes nature by the scruff.
And through the walls another grace --
Nature the provider, ever offering the teat
and there for ever at our beck and call
I really thought I would get round to you all today, but the broadband was one speed above stop and I was always fighting a losing battle.
A really heartening set of comments, though, so thank you all very much.
And if that wasn't enough several newcomers - or maybe just new commenters! A warm welcome to you, thank you for visiting and than you for leaving a note of your thoughts.
I really like this and it tells so much for how we live and think today. Where is the crack and where does it start....maybe right under our feet. Ilike this it has so much meaning.
Really thought-provoking Dave. This made me think and also left me feeling a little forlorn. What have we thrown away...
So much in this piece and so true I think. Thanks for sharing this. And thank you for visiting my blog as well!
Heart wrenching...
Heartbreaking and filled with wisdom, beautiful thought-provoking work
Post a Comment