.
.
.
With every line I draw, every task I do,
Ouroboros rebirths creation cycles in my head,
Self consuming from the end back to the start,
Perpetually renewing, hopeless does not matter.
.
Turning, turning I cannot help but to think of you,
I remember all the words you have so casually said,
Each one ending our promises never to part,
That we are yet together does not matter.
.
I would bid this absurd returning life adieu,
If I could avoid the reflexive pain that I dread,
Cold serrated indifference cuts twisting in my heart,
That you are not aware does not matter.
.
I am painting, transforming into color, the misery review,
Ghostly dreams, ephemeral love, all are my dancing dead.
Paintbrush in hand, I am recording lies renewed as art,
That you can not see does not matter.
.
.
.
Bear … 03.20.2014
ⓒ Bearspawprint
.
.
.
.
Hagalaz’ Runedance – Labyrinth
.
.
.
.
.
[…] this life? Are the arts an aspect of rebirth, every time work is created and enjoyed, over an over? Lies Renewed REQUIEM — Mozart KV 626– Gregory Carreño — Simon Bolivar Orchestra of Venezuela […]
LikeLike
Lies are in a way- desire. Desire for a different outcome, an alternate reality to a previous circumstance. To discern lies from truth is a matter of putting aside the mind. Lies are ephemeral, truth is self evident… and yet both are thought forms. Before truth and lies, there are no words. Perhaps that is why aboriginal people have no words for either – no need!
Your poem alludes to this primordial point, well done. 🙂
LikeLike
Ouroboros is depicted as the serpent eating himself. Re: you wrote snake chasing his tail, which I took to be the same primal image. ?
LikeLike
these guided tours
of the heavens – all ablaze –
alas this blindness!
LikeLike
Each of your replies is a distinct little gem. Thank you.
https://bearspawprint.wordpress.com/2014/03/21/sighted-guide/
LikeLike
“compulsive habits
can’t be broken easily”
my haiku answered!
😉
LikeLike
Beauty words written
Safe walkways over soft mud
Pain death love beneath
.
Bear … 03.21.2014
.
LikeLike
dark wombs of silence
nurture all our young, green shoots –
the doom of concrete!
LikeLike
“…the doom of concrete!” 😦
… well, phooey!!!
LikeLike
the asphalt-spreader
always seems to speak of love –
the seed knows better!
LikeLike
Deer paths, turtle slides
Pleasant boardwalks over mud
Are not hot asphalt
LikeLike
an unexpected day off – caring for sick family members & running errands – thank you for the conversation & the inspiration!
LikeLike
I do hope the illness is temporary and that all will be well soon. Thank you.
LikeLike
living by a well,
lacking sense enough to drink –
I merely gargle…
LikeLike
The palate cleansed
Discerns true essence
Recycled spit wrong flavor
.
Bear ….03.21.2014
.
LikeLike
We are painting in our minds sweet Bear! ❤️ I wrote about painting 14 yrs ago and I just touched the surface! Your poetry is know by me! > > >
LikeLike
“I just touched the surface” ….. that is all we do …. It is the reader or the viewer the audience the appreciator who must Know what is only hinted.
Thank you MikkiMarieMama
Have you published your older work?
LikeLike
Yes I did today! Paint for me! Also pressed between the pages almost 9.
LikeLike
ooo. I’m coming for a blog-visit in just a little while. 🙂 Just a bit more to do…….
LikeLike
Girl it’s ok! Whenever take your time!
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike