Radiant Center

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Of all I've read in this thread, this is by far the one of the most appealing parts.
I must confess to have visited here a couple of times, although never stopping to read the whole thing in one breath. I find it quite difficult to appreciate en masse like this (which is odd because I normally to prefer a selection of writings from one poet rather than individual pieces in one go). I think my difficulty comes in that there is little to distinguish one piece from the next, deliberate I am sure, but it is a little monotonous! I also have difficulties with the highbrow, ecclesiastical approach - I find it hard to connect with.

I'll offer further thoughts in due course, but those are just initial reactions to the thread as a whole.....

 

#1....my thoughts.....



Blazing circle of cricket passion.
Millions of thristy flowers
open to drink the shimmering gold.

I quite like this, it's very beautiful, but something doesn't fit right...I think for me it's the millions....not sure why...NB also typo

Each grass blade,
with its pearl of dew,
nestled with neighbors alone.

This is great - love the inherent contradiction in the final line

These windswept lake ripples,
upon the surface,
but how deep.

I don't think you need the "these"....is it meant to be "the windswept lake ripples" (I think not, but with that sentence construction that's what you get) or " the ripples upon the surface of the windswept lake"? the latter is your intention, but I think you found it hard to squish the sentiment into this stanza...?

Those sturdy roots
wrapped in dark earth,
do not long, just grow.

Nice idea....would have liked to see this developed further

Does it ultimately matter
what the birds think of me.
My humming song will blend with bees, this morn, if nothing else.

You need a question mark to finish the question. Personally I think the question is a little odd here....it comes out of nowhere, no clues that you were thinking that it MIGHT matter what the birds thought. besides the answer is obviously no! The last line is a gem

Wasp caught,
in a spider-web,
is it tragic or art.

Are you the wasp? Or have we leapt back to the nature commentary? I don't really like the juxtaposition of "tragic" and "art"....can you explain why you chose these two...that might aid my understanding!

We try to make meaning,
with our patterning minds,
but is it now.

I think you were trying to use this to say much much more...but it's lost on me.....can you explain your choice of the word "patterning"? And is what now?

[What is seen
when you smell the dawn
unfolding its rays.

Nice, simple, open. personally I'd have left off the rays, because as you've described above while the sun begins the dawn the chain reaction is much wider. Unfolding also describes the daylit sky, the leaves and flowers, waking creatures...

To be one,
with these coffee beans,
all else is waiting.

A breakfast reference? I like the implication that you can't be one with them, and yet need them to get on with things.

Embracing all interconnected centers;
the clothes are a disguise.
Stillness of crystals reflected in a birdbath.

this is purdy....are you sure the clothes are a disguise? Or a handicap, a strict uniform?

An immaculate orchid stand,
soars in splendor,
caressing the aloes.

Streams of ants marching in worship.
This cool silence, abides,
from the dreaming self.

lovely images....but I am uncertain what the overall message is.....

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

I can really see these etched out in this fashion. The entire work, to me, has a meditative, zen like quality to it that I do like; however it's very ethereal to me, more ambiguous than I typically enjoy. I really enjoy specific images to tie down the overall emotion. That being said, I wouldn't change these at all. Well, perhaps a slight change of word choice here or there, but nothing major at all. Things that are written at times where raw emotions are exhibited just shouldn't be touched, in my opinion, of course. I've got a zine I did myself that's in the exact opposite direction, the most depressing collection of work I've done, which I typically use as a foundation for alot of the stuff I've posted on here. So, since you're looking for ideas to progress these... my suggestion would be to do a new collection, based off these that expands the story, putting each specific event down that portrays the underlying, raw feelings. I for one, would love to read that!
My favorites of this collection were towards the end... #'s 35, 39, 41, and 43. Number's 45 and 47 were my favorites though, the most tangible and slippery with their technique and imagery.
Good stuff, and looking forward to more from you!

 

I've often tried to explain to a person full of anger how being in love, even once, can change your view of life. Do poets believe 'love' can change the world? I think the those who've experienced it know it's a place to start. Next time I'll use an example like this. Thanks for posting.

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

Wind scattered words

 

On Malta...

Though the language was enigmatic throughout, I did not get a feeling of mystical enchanment but rather a feeling of some hidden pent up, metaphorical desire, sexual or other.

I'm a bit confused though by this stanza
"Repression is a social disease
resulting from antibiotic laws and letters.
What has our civilization cost?"

I don't see a clear coherence with the previously stated stanzas, unless again those stanzas were carefully disguised metaphors and they flew right over my head!

These two stanzas though were my favorite of all!!
"She begins to dig anew.
Her skin is, not just a place for rigormortis,
but a Hypogeum for prophetic dreams.

Outside, owls roosting
in an gnarled pomegranate tree
are draped with cloaks of rusted moonlight."

Especially the last three lines...they draw such a unique, cryptic image.