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Date Posted: 18:50:57 07/09/01 Mon
Author: Peggy
Author Host/IP: 206.97.65.112
Subject: Title: "The Nature Of Poetry, The Art Of Love" Kirk you might like this one

[image]postpoems.com/ezboard/peace.jpg[/image]
http://www.postposms.com/ezboard/peace.jpg

Title: "The Nature Of Poetry, The Art Of Love"

Like looking at a fine collection
of stars in the universe
I also sometimes see
the divine here on this earth.
Once in a blue swing in a dream,
I reached up and touched
an old dark wall,
I could not see over its top, it was very high
but I went back on the swing
and back up to the stone wall,
again and again
swinging very high, everyonce in a while feeling the little death
within my flesh.
And I wanted to see what was on the other side
of paradise,
I felt in my blood it must be Eden and its snake.
So I gathered these things in my mind
at night, that this must be the nature of
poetry, "that this is the art of love and its kiss".
Wild thoughts of language
that becomes the poems
and the songs before dawn.
Words written down on paper,
the words would
be just as bitter-sweet
if able for the poet to sing
them aloud
on Mars or Venus.
We poets here on Earth weep for love
and its uncommon bond to the divine,
its holy
and unholy hold on us all,
if not to hold it, only to behold
it, like viewing the rose and its thorns on Sunday and
wishing they are still in the vase or on the vine on Monday,
praying they are not dead and fallen off the stem,
waiting to paint our eyes with red again.
Write about Orion, I dare you, I think a few poets
and song-makers have and Nostradamus found folly
and madness
in the pink flesh and in the clear water in a bowl,
his notes found in an old cedar chest long ago
tells us so.
A song unsung is the plain language of the heart,
once in the mind of the poet it becomes a whole
unbroken
charm; with no broken parts.
By Peggy Meeks-King
July the 7th,2001

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