for the poets

The transcendence of this earthly plane,

language for such one cannot name,

but feel inside with deeper mind,

a struggle of a different kind.

Between the felt,

beneath the seen,

far in the distance of a dream,

heart with body left behind,

where words unspoken may exist

which form on paper such as this.

Perhaps the soul releases them

unto our fingers' soft request.



No bleak beginning, blissful finish,

no heroes winning, or pain diminished:

only timeless lines on hallowed ground,

falling from a human crown,

bleeding through a righteous pen,

becoming of the world again.

Reviews

[Poetically Always Ashle..]

I too don't like poems about poetry because poetry is very much unexplainable. I do like this one though. I've maybe read a few other that were alright, but this is by far a winner. I have written poems about poetry, and it's quite hard to do so. I may post them again, which have been deleted from what happened on here. So let me say lastly that this piece was very much enjoyed. Thanks!

[Revery]

Love the thought here and expressed so well through combinations of words and metaphors. love it, especially:

"Perhaps the soul releases them
unto our fingers' soft request. "

[Ed Hart]

how did you figure this out, so young ago...this kind of seeing doesn't grow on trees...well, there was this one tree once, but they locked it away in a garden, and put an angel with a flaming sword to guard it, or something like that...

[Antonio Valentino]

This was amazing Krista. The topic of verse and muse is not that easy to write about. I tried to write one recently, Soul Slivers, I like yours much more.

Hey welcome back to the cafe!
Have fun.

Antonio

[Pax Analog]

Your lines caress sublimity.

Poetry's (or poetics' in an extended sense) highest capacity is the affective-cognitive jiu-jitsu of saying the unsayable, via heightened suggestibility (as in the title of an essay: "Octavio Paz: Poetry as Coded Silence").

"only timeless lines on hallowed ground,/falling from a human crown" -- excellent!

This poem touches on a sadly neglected writerly emphasis: the extent to which writing in and of itself directly and obliquely reveals Spirit, the alpha-omega of Existence.

Thank you for this fine work.

[Tomás Ó C..]

Yes, thats us to a T... dotted!!!

[Forest Green]

...bleeding through a righteous pen,
becoming of the world again...

What a finale...to a wonderful poem.

Nice work...

[Bennett Logan]

I normally don't like poems about poetry, but I enjoyed this. Your word choice made all the difference. Who knows what it is that makes us pick apart our memories, thoughts, and feelings, write them down, revise them, revise them, revise them revise them, and even then, we're not done. But we sure keep on doing it. This piece captures that essence pretty well.

One thing I noticed, though, was this: You have the rhyming couplet thing going on here, and you used the couplets well to get your point across. When I read it out loud, however, lines 5 and 6 threw me off because line 5 is left by itself without a rhyme, but then the rhyme for line 6 is continued in line 7. I noticed similar in lines 8, 11, and 12. I'm not saying that all poetry should be uniform, but I found the deviation distracting in what was originally a structured AABB rhyme scheme. Otherwise, I truly enjoyed this piece. In its essence, it honestly describes the struggle behind writing a good poem. Keep up the good work.

[~crazy Beautiful~]

THis is amazing
I am having a hard time choosing favorite lines
"The transcendence of this earthly plane,

language for such one cannot name,

but feel inside with deeper mind,

a struggle of a different kind.

Between the felt,

beneath the seen,

far in the distance of a dream,

heart with body left behind,

where words unspoken may exist

which form on paper such as this.

Perhaps the soul releases them

unto our fingers' soft request. "
Unbelievable how you pour your soul into your writing
this is a new favorite of mine
thank you for entering my contest

[Arthur Henn]

Excellent,
____________________________

"A Legacy"

The poets blood of emotions
that runs through his mind
into his heart
captured by his soul
written on paper
for all to read.

Arthur Henn 2008