I am frost ringed moon and crystallized breath...
cracked bleeding lips and comfort's quick death.
I am the arrival of dread and the resident forlorn...
the old man's heir... I am Winterborn.
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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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Anatomy
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- Africa
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- allegory
- anagram
- art
- Cagey Tweed
- children's art
- crossings
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- eclipsing luna
- festival of trees
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- An Eudaemonist
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- ...Failed Painter
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Vitals
- KGT (aka Cagey)
- Tentative philomath, aspiring polymath. Sometimes ribald, most times Renaissance, always looking in the rearview mirror.
CURRENT MOON
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.
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.
5 comments:
What glorious imagery.
I followed the link. The whole poem is jaw-dropping, reads like the opening to a real epic. The confidence of the persona can leave one weak-kneed (grin), has a Beowulf feel. Cheers.
Fantastic work.
Rachel- Thank you. I am sure you know of that which I speak, given your geography!
S.L.- Weak-kneed? Shall I lend you my arm? Thanks as always Soulless. (Oh, why did we stop calling you Soulless?)
K. LawG- I am so glad to have you as a reader. Many thanks for the kind words.
I think it was to commemorate the third anniversary of my poetry blog. It was either that, i.e. a change of pen name (plus posting a pic of half my face on my profile page, haha), or totally redo the look of the site (I like to do something major to the blog whenever its birthday comes along, though unannounced). ;)
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