That  Which Can Not Ever Be Explained

That Which Can Not Ever Be Explained

A Poem by Dean

With every now we cite the faithful muse,
the one we know is never there, but
just as certainly our patroness,
our lover for all time, our aged sprite
drifting silently along the screaming front
and those of us who write,
will never let her go.

 

I'll climb the tower of my ignorance.
I'll praise the circumstance that brings me there,
to curb and rest those wild oars of the mind
however aimed out in the passion of a distant call.
I'll sing those waves of self reward,
of my impetuosity when reason plays the chorus.
There again the mind falls short; the intellect
must feast upon the small perception
of the breath alone.

We must throw up our hands. That which  saves us
is our creativity...as if it were enough. 
And this poor poet doesn't think it is.
Ironic, isn't it?  He takes some joy from that.
                   ~

© 2016 Dean


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Yes indeed, never underestimate the power of creativity that lurks deep within our conscious and can emerge in many various forms, i.e. for the discerning writer, a elegant poem such as this !

Kudos Dean !

Posted 7 Years Ago


Dean

7 Years Ago

Thank you. I'm getting more reaction from this than I expected.
"That which saves us is our creativity."

There is much weight to those words, and much admiration from this mere poet to the one who wrote them!

I certainly hope you are doing well, my friend...x

Posted 7 Years Ago


Dean

7 Years Ago

Well indeed, and always thinking of you
Kelly Scheppers

7 Years Ago

I'm trying to be good...that guy in the red suit will be on the prowl soon! ; ) x
I enjoy the whole but that last stanza just hits full within me and all I can do is nod I hope knowingly.

Posted 7 Years Ago


Dean

7 Years Ago

Thank you, Ken

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Added on August 31, 2016
Last Updated on August 31, 2016

Author

Dean
Dean

Chatsworth, CA



About
Retired teacher, radio personality, pipe organ technician more..

Writing
         The Real Soul The Real Soul

A Poem by Dean