cello

February 16, 2009 at 6:11 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 16 Comments
Tags: , ,

Winter’s debris,
vitreous, stark,
in limpid pools
reflecting mercy’s eyes.
The time for grief is over
and the time for death arrived.

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16 Comments »

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  1. I am loving your magic whistling…

    “Reflecting mercy’s eyes”…Ayyy!

  2. I love this developing style, Paul. Fascinating!

  3. This is quite evocative. Is it a response to a particular piece of cello music?
    No, Jim, I don’t really know classical music that well. It’s more just the timbre.

  4. Most of the cello pieces I know sound like this. An ominous kind of joy.

  5. (((((you)))))

  6. ripe i mean right on

  7. That was VERY melancholic…

    It kind of accelerated in it’s brooding qualities.

  8. funny instead of seeing winter i kept seeing writer…

    am so obsessed with this island job…

  9. ripe like fruit dropping and seeds burrowing i meant, it is very moving

  10. I echo Brad’s sentiments. You saw me playing with a different style today. You’re to thank for pushing me new places.

    RE: The Puzzle Box. Last night I read pg. 81, An Insufferable Selfindulgencesness.

    “Squires!”

    yes ma’am,

    “Stop staring out that window, you are supposed to be learning.”

    So you. Loved it.

  11. There is some scrambling here of words and meaning that makes for an immediate lightening bolt into the subsconscious. There are the terms usually referring to eyes/pools/vitreous and then time/grief/death but reversed and mercy linking both themes and the whole tiny poems goes in circles and circles like a stark rippling wintry pool. It’s haunting, to be read over and over, echoing for me the way I need to read and re-read Wallace Stevens.

  12. Beautifully sad and poignant. Tres powerful.

  13. Ooooh. I love it, Paul. I like when the mourning is over and now it’s time to make a stand (one way or the other). Although the mourning is never really over; we just tire of it.

  14. the first tree lines are beyond comment. Another amazing one Paul…

  15. A spectacular statement of the dissolution that new growth requires. Come Spring!

  16. full of surrender.

    beautifully developed and delivered~
    it surely rendered me………….


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