Poetry

[shmity72]

So ladies and gentlemen. I am not a writer of plays/stories or anything else that requires significant comprehension.

I am a poet.

20 years ago I wrote the shortest poem of my life.

aware

tonight I finished it....and it goes like this:

What is yet awareness?

There is an understanding.

Below an old oak tree.

That what cannot touch us isn’t there.

What feels that She ought be.

A strident yet subdued ocean.

A thought in time may wane.

Yet light cannot be not.

And awareness is the same.

end

 

[Antimatter]

When I just studied English (and played Baldur's Gate at the same time), I wrote the following:

Wisdom and cunning
All day and night
Keep my heart running
And my head—bright!

 

[shmity72]

I haven't written poetry since my teenage years, but one of my favourite poems is "Stufen" (steps, or stages) by Hermann Hesse, and I found an English translation to share it:

As every flower fades and as all youth
Departs, so life at every stage,
So every virtue, so our grasp of truth,
Blooms in its day and may not last forever.
Since life may summon us at every age
Be ready, heart, for parting, new endeavor,
Be ready bravely and without remorse
To find new light that old ties cannot give.
In all beginnings dwells a magic force
For guarding us and helping us to live.
Serenely let us move to distant places
And let no sentiments of home detain us.
The Cosmic Spirit seeks not to restrain us
But lifts us stage by stage to wider spaces.
If we accept a home of our own making,
Familiar habit makes for indolence.
We must prepare for parting and leave-taking
Or else remain the slaves of permanence.
Even the hour of our death may send
Us speeding on to fresh and newer spaces,
And life may summon us to newer races.
So be it, heart: bid farewell without end.

That poem made me think of the virtue of motor skill as well as cognitive movement from place to place. like moving from our dna infused stereotypical minds forward to the possibility of possibilities.