good evening, internet world
sorry I've kept you all waiting - it's been quite a while and rightly so - plans for my new business are going forward rather quickly and there hasn't been a lot of time for poetry let alone posting it online, but I told myself I would make an effort to post at least one this month and I'm sticking to it.
the poem for today is a recent work - i just finished it in the past few weeks and it started as a single phrase in my mind that sat around for a long, long time and eventually gestated into the poem you're reading today. a lot of it came from simply sitting on my porch, interestingly enough, just gazing at my orchids.
i have two of them - one is a phalaenopsis, and the other i'm not so sure - it was given to me as a gift. the one thing that I always thought was so beautiful about the plants, besides their obvious physical beauty, was that even though (as rainforest plants) they were thousands of miles away from their native lands and would never be properly pollinated to reproduce, still they had the nerve and audacity to bloom for their strange new world to see, in stark rejection of the impossibility looming all around.
it's that kind of beauty that produced the single phrase in my mind that grew into 'still, the orchid blooms' - well, that and my love for sufi mysticism, I suppose. :)
so take what you will and enjoy, and, if you happen to own an orchid yourself, perhaps you'll be able to see this spectacle for yourself - not with your eyes, but with your soul.
"still, the orchid blooms"
like a dervish from a foreign land
exotic seasons whirling round
your sufi-spinning Sama
draws all dancing eyes
upon you now
to see your
sublime tariqah glow
so bold and bright
in youth
you’d never stoop to beg a stare -
kashkul hanging at your stem -
yet every falling, tender breath
is counted; kisses to a leaf
your dresses pink
and red as lust
but you’ve long shed
such weak desire
and shorn this life
of want
no childish hopes of pollination
amongst such flowers growing wild
you’ve never formed a gesture once
suggesting you’ve held faith in us
you laugh
inside, intent to hide
and honor us with wisdom’s dew -
wordlessly, in gorgeous dance,
each vibrant, fresh, and flowering stride
invites the koan, provokes a thought
as paradoxes twirl on by
against all nature,
the purest truths
exist in those
who smile at dooms
so might we all receive thy dance
and know why, still, the orchid blooms
- Joshua Clarke
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Day 23 - "under the spell"
Happy Monday everyone! That most wonderful of weekdays.
Luckily I have been able to procure this day off on a weekly basis through my job so I don't suffer the ill effects of it's 'new week' influence. But I have a new poem for all of you today, so that should cheer you up, right?
I thought so.
By the way, before I get into the poem, I know it's been a while since I've posted but, unfortunately, I still don't have a reliable internet connection and my dedication to keeping my poetry coming has been waning lately because of a lot of time being set aside for working on my business as well as general mayhem in terms of my weekly schedule - nothing seems to be set in stone anymore and as much as I like to parcel my week out and have some private time for writing, those plans have been dashed to pieces these past few months for one reason or another.
But I'm back now, and my poem for today is one that I wrote a while ago after seeing a production of a musical theater piece called "Godspell" that I had particularly strong feelings about afterwards. Knowing me to be a professed Christian, many of my friends asked me about it and what I thought of it and many of them, before even speaking to me, believed that I must have instantly loved it and had to be a fan. In fact, it was quite the opposite reaction for me. It's one thing to portray a religious faith on stage - it's quite another thing to turn it into a happy, dancing charade with musical numbers and mass consumer appeal. Even my significant other at the time was extremely disappointed to find that, in private, the idea that this play even existed evoked such a disgusted response from me.
It was and is only my personal opinion, and I know not everyone shares my sentiments on the piece itself, but regardless of the backstory involved with this poem it provoked this work in me. I hope you all enjoy it, and if you've felt the same way in a similarly given situation before, perhaps it will reach out to you in particular and convey that sense of being the only one in the audience who chose not to stand up for a certain ovation.
"under the spell"
One thought it a fine entertainment to see
Until one had gleaned of its dreadful attempt
At the cruel and senseless mimicry
Of a thing that gave half of its soul to prevent
The damnation of ages upon ages of man -
Who were all the more pitiless, the more that they cheered -
And then bore all the whips and the lash of their hand
For the sake that they all might be free and would hear
Of the bold sacrifice and the promise divine
But one saw all this drowned in a moment by song
And a dance and a joke and a bright glowing sign
And for that lonely one, there was nowhere to hide
Sitting in the front row with a grand company
Watching doom silhouette that most bold mimicry
- Josh Clarke
Luckily I have been able to procure this day off on a weekly basis through my job so I don't suffer the ill effects of it's 'new week' influence. But I have a new poem for all of you today, so that should cheer you up, right?
I thought so.
By the way, before I get into the poem, I know it's been a while since I've posted but, unfortunately, I still don't have a reliable internet connection and my dedication to keeping my poetry coming has been waning lately because of a lot of time being set aside for working on my business as well as general mayhem in terms of my weekly schedule - nothing seems to be set in stone anymore and as much as I like to parcel my week out and have some private time for writing, those plans have been dashed to pieces these past few months for one reason or another.
But I'm back now, and my poem for today is one that I wrote a while ago after seeing a production of a musical theater piece called "Godspell" that I had particularly strong feelings about afterwards. Knowing me to be a professed Christian, many of my friends asked me about it and what I thought of it and many of them, before even speaking to me, believed that I must have instantly loved it and had to be a fan. In fact, it was quite the opposite reaction for me. It's one thing to portray a religious faith on stage - it's quite another thing to turn it into a happy, dancing charade with musical numbers and mass consumer appeal. Even my significant other at the time was extremely disappointed to find that, in private, the idea that this play even existed evoked such a disgusted response from me.
It was and is only my personal opinion, and I know not everyone shares my sentiments on the piece itself, but regardless of the backstory involved with this poem it provoked this work in me. I hope you all enjoy it, and if you've felt the same way in a similarly given situation before, perhaps it will reach out to you in particular and convey that sense of being the only one in the audience who chose not to stand up for a certain ovation.
"under the spell"
One thought it a fine entertainment to see
Until one had gleaned of its dreadful attempt
At the cruel and senseless mimicry
Of a thing that gave half of its soul to prevent
The damnation of ages upon ages of man -
Who were all the more pitiless, the more that they cheered -
And then bore all the whips and the lash of their hand
For the sake that they all might be free and would hear
Of the bold sacrifice and the promise divine
But one saw all this drowned in a moment by song
And a dance and a joke and a bright glowing sign
And for that lonely one, there was nowhere to hide
Sitting in the front row with a grand company
Watching doom silhouette that most bold mimicry
- Josh Clarke
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