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Author Name: Freebluefish 0 Comments
Date Added: September 03, 2004 07:09:30 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Category: Religious Add To Favorites | Text Only
Millennium Leaves
i labor in the fields of the poem
sweat drips from my brow
in heavy beads to the word rich ground.
i stand by my soil stained plow
carefully tying up my vines & strophes
for the coming storms of the season
so that the verse will be strong
& will produce sounds sweet of eternal fruit & wines
for the praeries of tomorrow.
i wait for new lines to unfold from the shaking leafs
& fight the modern insects
& address the postmodern crows.
That fly above me
messengers of apocalyptic poetics,
Apothecaries of soul sickness.
They hunger for the newborn berries &grapes
that hang from my vines
& while take them with them
if i don't watch them---right out of my mouth
as i begin to recite
they would steal moon if it wasn't nailed down.
They land beside me those feathery demons
strutting on fork toed feet & they speak
you know what these crows think.
"Your poetry's trash." said one
"Your poetry's junk,"Said the other
"That Because you made it, did not find it
in the bulrushes of anthologies."
Then they begin their litany of apathetic wisdom,
anti-Philosophies & outright lies.
How art is a brain dead endeavor,
a machine can do it much better and faster
& the universe has no meaning beyond fragmentation
& that the human condition is absurd.
"Enough,"i said
”you scheming demons…”
& grabbed my platonic shotgun
out of the wheelbarrow i keep by the plow.
& i peppered these crows
with perfect geometrical forms.
But i guess i should have used silver.
For entropic guests are immune to harmony
they laugh at me, jumped & took flight
waiting again for their hour to surprise me
like nightmares at night
creep in your sleeping flesh
& press in on your dreaming soul
i shudder & return to my work
singing & raking the millennia dead leaves
around my poem as a mulch
as the storm clouds gather in the skies of twilight.
i wait for the rains to begin
Hoping my children will unfold from the vines
new  breathing beings from my mind
popping silent strange generations from scantion
into this beautiful world this new-born universe
of beauty & sound.
But i fear as any father would
that some will be deformed
& i hope for heathy poems
& to cradle them in my arms
& sing the song of forming creation.
& if they be monsters i will carry them anyway
as the rains begin
to learn my lessons
as they cling on my shoulders
as living rivers flow from my tongue……

Author's Notes:
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'Millennium Leaves' Copyright © Andrew Rymill
Copyright is property of the above author or group. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.
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