The conundrum of poetry versus passivity

The conundrum of poetry versus passivity

A Poem by Beccy

I am lost to the rhythm of the tides,
beached trinkets from shipwrecks;
the accidental discovery that our
world had no sharp edges.

I am bound by moonlight,
ageless forests and mountains,
the ghost wolf's mournful howl
as it recounts the passing of centuries.

I believe in mass-energy equivalence,
that gold is precious, though not so precious
as the first heartbeat of a newborn child, 
without which, there is no future.

I comment from time to time that
our existence is perhaps mere fancy, 
the metaphorical equivalent of 
a celestial goldfish bowl;

that rock and bone break 
in equal proportion, and 
the sunlight striking my eyes 
was actually created tens of 
thousands of years ago.

And whilst all this is considered,
I chase rainbows, aping their colours;
trusting to luck that our divisive species
will kiss and make up, before some 
palsied finger presses the wrong button
and changes the rhythm of the tides forever.

© 2019 Beccy


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Man was destined to extinct himself, infact I would go as far to say we've taken a perfect planet and ruined it. But we're here, so I assume we're here for some reason. In saying that, the earth really is pretty perfect in every way, like someone knew what they were doing when they created it. I'll hazard a guess, bob the builder wasn't the main contractor. That's one deep poem, Beccy.

Posted 4 Years Ago


A really superb philosophical piece, Beccy. Super enjoyable to read and ponder:)

Posted 4 Years Ago


"I comment from time to time that
our existence is perhaps mere fancy,
the metaphorical equivalent of
a celestial goldfish bowl..."

Dear Beccy, this is writing to aspire to. I am in awe! Much applause!

Posted 4 Years Ago


Wow! A uniquely rendered cautionary tale, as well as the expressing of the cycle.

Posted 4 Years Ago


you are so good...this is a great mixture of the derisive world we live in...the turbulent times...also the cycle of life, when one person dies another is born...there is a certain rhythm to that....a symmetry.
and yes...sometimes we can want to just disappear, fall off the edge of the earth...but unfortunately it is round...and keeps going in that circle, carrying us with it.
such a complex, intuitive write.
j.

Posted 4 Years Ago


This one begins with dreamy fantasy pictures of great beauty, moves into philosophical questions and finally ends with an apocalyptic jolt about the threat of nuclear war. Quite a fascinating look at the meaning of life, filled with many striking images. Should be read several times.

Posted 4 Years Ago



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Added on October 2, 2019
Last Updated on October 2, 2019

Author

Beccy
Beccy

United Kingdom



About
I'm forty four, single and have a lovely fifteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and real.. more..

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