Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

PERSISTENT DREAM

Poetry By: donkylemore
Classics


A confrontation with
Self..
Goethe springs to mind when I read it back.
Its a dream that comes in swaying words and colours and rambles on ..and on #and it never goes away.
Catholic persecution ?
Perhaps .. but with ever faith I have this predicament , which is unresolved here..
Its more a painting than a poem .
see if it makes sense to you .. It scarcely does to me


Submitted:Aug 20, 2010    Reads: 58    Comments: 7    Likes: 2   


Make light more light !
Stand back and let the splinters and shards
Fall on floor of this dark cavernous place

I hold the hammer and I hack and chisel
At the mysteries of this impenetrable
Inescapable dark.

But it's fortress is as inaccessible as a witches' womb;
And so much more uninviting.
Beyond the catacombs of unfathomable intensity

Lies - yes ! That unrelenting thing that clasps with a drowning man's despair;

Conscience !

Sneering ! Always sneering.
Throwing up chink -mail armoured cobwebs in my way
Until I peel away unwittingly to.. Towards -

Integrity.

Here confronted !
I am blind and doomed and lost !
With compass swaying this way and that
As my needle searches True North

The North ? Of what ? it mocks
The opposite of True South ? It sneers and hectors me.
But my sightless eyes seek insensate fingertip

Plodding like a drunk
Blindfolded ; shackled
Muted as in a robe of dank sackcloth made.

I am senseless of self scrutiny and know
Only an arbiter of sober memory
Seeks leg and limb to stabilise
The delirium ; so deep so delicious
So deluding

Crack the light beat the drum
Of hiccupped heartbeat
Reach out the shards that shine like spears
Listen for the bell that chimes
Let the waters of conscience
Not lap nor lull nor bring lullaby

I see past memories
Black and dark and hostile , As the hob of hell,
Furious as the fiery furnace where tempers rage
Tearing with tumultuous wrath

But let them enrapture ; entomb
And surrender all to the eye that sees All.

And that hand that guided
And that ear that gave listening
And the tongue that gave tastes
Oh tasted , so much sweetness and pleasures sublime.

Surrender to the scrutinise eye
Of the one that looks back with a merciless gaze
From the mirror of all that is ;

Self.





2

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.