Plagiarism of Hermes

We steal our words from a primal source

existing before utterances took their course

Forgotten in faded mists of history,

echoed in our own crib side infancy,

is lost the frustration and isolation

that comes with no means of communication

Imprisoned in the primeval dark,

we search for a light, a verbal spark

At first we cry, a groan, a moan,

to let others know they're not alone

We desperately search for a means to thresh

out our emotions, buried in flesh

With a gasping, grasping, groping attempt,

to express hunger, love or contempt,

a shaping of noises is expressed

to spit out what's deep inside our chest

There's a burning thirst for understanding,

but confusion, is comprehension's river damming

With guttural grunts we flail around

to breath a thought into a sound

Yet no clamor conveys the feeling inside,

transmission of peace or hate to describe

So we imitate sounds that others make,

butchering feelings and emotions that are fake

Tired of all our verbal philandering

we're made a prisoner of misunderstanding

Until out of desperation we reach audibly

to vomit an unintelligible cacophony

A volcanic force in convulsive spasms

spontaneously erupts in vocal orgasms

All words stolen, from their inventor

All thoughts plagiarized, the ideas of a mentor

That's our feeble human attempt,

internal experiences in poems to vent

Words created and looted now abound

to put nature's mysteries into a sound

Author's Note

Hermes is the god of words. They say that a person can not remember before they acquire language but I have verified images and feelings from infancy. I have visual images of the house I lived in and events at six months of age, my parents having moved out of that house when I was a year old. The images and events later confirmed to me by my astonished parents. I also remember the frustration of not understanding what was being said to me and not being able to voice my desires and feelings at that age.

Reviews

[DIVYA]

Firstly, thank you so much for sharing your Author's note as I really related to it. Indeed, nothing we say or write is new under the sun. Its all been said and written a million times in various ways in the ages past. So true that we steal words from a primal source within. There are so many dark and good forces that go into shaping us and pour words and the process of our sculpting begins even before our birth. I'm never sure of it but I do think I had heard my father's voice in my mum's womb and felt him around before being born. I also have vivid memories of a grandfather who died a year before I was born. Now,. I really dont know if these memories are genuine or planted much later in my subconscious but my heart really wants to believe its all true. Coming back to the topic, indeed, we are such complex creatures with such intricacies of feelings and emotions in our formative years then its bound to reflect in our words. In fact Soren, if you ask me, I feel we are all recycled people, recycled leaves, variegated and mixed each time in a million different hues. Thank you for sharing a topic that is so deliciously inviting to go on penning my thoughts. I'll just end here by saying, what a fantastic poem!

P.S. Thank you, also, for the reference to Hermes. It was very informative.

[Soren]

Thank you so much Divya for your review of this piece. I too think we are recycled in some way, maybe mixed with all others, where our individuality is in humanity itself, where we are all pieces of a greater whole, a brother or sister to all nature. I so appreciate you taking your time to read and analyse this piece.

[DIVYA]

I loved reading and sharing my thoughts on this poem. You're most welcome, dear Soren.