pity this busy monster,manunkind, not.

[kiya]

This schizophrenic machine played Roxette's "You can't put your arms around what's already gone" and followed it up with Boston's "We can make it".

Make up your feathered mind, bit-box!

Anyway. tiassa was talking about bad teenage poetry in the context of one of those regular rant subjects. (Well, poetry and stuff like this, for sort of useful cognitive dissonance.) Which got me on poetry a bit. (Why is it that reading badly composed free verse inspires in me an urge to write poems structured according to Very Strict Rules? Is this just a bit of really unsubtle contraritude?)

I knew this, once
Memories of remembering on the edge of reason
The solidity of things, real thing
Untouched by doubt or weakness.

Memories of remembering on the edge of reason
Knowing truth by simple contact
Untouched by doubt or weakness
And finding it good.

Knowing truth by simple contact
With things timeless and just discovered
And finding them good:
This, an endless spiralled partnership.

With timeless things and just discovered
Unsolidity of things, real things
This endless, spiralling partnership
I knew . . . once.

So. Thing. I have committed pantoum.

Comments

[oneironaut.livejournal.com]

Oh. That's beautiful.

I don't know what it means, of course -- this is me -- but I know beauty when I see it.

[kiya]

Rough translation: I'm an angstpuppy with a serious case of doubt and uncertainty. ;)

And, more seriously

[kiya]

I do love the inevitability of the pantoum structure, once it reaches its final verse. It's very good for certain purposes.