Brooch pins for my eyes
bury the cold black hole sun
blind Justice and I
have heard quite enough
and the prophesies cannot
be undone.
“While the widows
go on weeping
wearing ashes
and gnashing
their teeth
the Parties
will prey
on the young.”
They are staying,
they are coursing
the dogs of war unleashed.
She is dwindling
she is dwarfing
Our Lady, art thou impeached?
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
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Welcome to "When I Wax"-- a place to escape the pedants and wax poetic, or even wax artistic.
The mythologist Joseph Campbell was asked by an interviewer how a regular person could preserve his sense of the mythic when so many feel too besieged by the claims of every day living. He said, "You must have a place to which you can go, in your heart, in your mind, or your house, almost every day, where you do not know what you owe anyone or what anyone owes you. You must have a place you can go to where you do not know what your work is or who you work for, where you do not know who you are married to or who your children are."
When I Wax is such a place for me. Blogging drafts of poetry and other sundries is like practice fly-casting on the front lawn... it may look silly, but it's effective...
The mythologist Joseph Campbell was asked by an interviewer how a regular person could preserve his sense of the mythic when so many feel too besieged by the claims of every day living. He said, "You must have a place to which you can go, in your heart, in your mind, or your house, almost every day, where you do not know what you owe anyone or what anyone owes you. You must have a place you can go to where you do not know what your work is or who you work for, where you do not know who you are married to or who your children are."
When I Wax is such a place for me. Blogging drafts of poetry and other sundries is like practice fly-casting on the front lawn... it may look silly, but it's effective...
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Thank you
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
George Gordon Byron
The Destruction of Sennacherib
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
3 comments:
'brooch pins for my eyes' i love the image and the symbolism - will be back :)
Thanks Madame b! Come back soon...and thanks for letting me link to "Stripped"
The first line made me sit straight up, on the edge of my seat. (I imagine the piercing... Oh!) ^_^ The ending, too, lends quite an impact.
She is dwindling
she is dwarfing
You portray the image (and strengthen the message) effectively.
Cheers.
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