Friday, July 06, 2007

My Mountain

I ran to ask my mountain questions
Those borne from foothills of a soul

And borrowed air as makeshift transit

The stolen time from oxygen
Inhaled and set as veins in marble

Unlike each whispered, echoed word

It sat, unmoved, unfurrowed counsel
While only lost penumbra stirred

A heartbeat peppered fractured quiet
There's nothing blowing in the wind
Then senses pricked by cacti needles

All cursed their lucky solitude
The dumbest nurture untold knowledge

Mobility is just cement

The torture of my mountain's fortune

Solutions aren't by accident

The answer isn't on a matchbox

It can't be found among parched clouds

Or hidden betwixt the leaves of trees

Nor snaking dust around the scrub

My mountain sage stood fast in silence

And truth no nodding head betrayed

The foetus of my wisdom crowning

With innocence once more decayed


Ordinary Girl said...

Its hard to find the answers when you dont know the questions to ask

Anonymous said...

Mountain has something, a seed of potential, evident in the odd word or phrase. Largely, however, it’s nonsense. It’s much better much than Blueprint (in pencil), though and certainly a departure from your usual style. The older poems are in an altogether different class, being generally very good.

Quote said...

Thank you, "anonymous". What do you mean by "older" poems? What do you know of these things?

Anonymous said...

I mean the poems you’ve posted on here in the past. I don’t know any more than anybody else, these last two just weren’t as accessible (to me) as the older ones.

Ordinary Girl said...

Have to say that I have found it difficult to understand these at all, and I loved a few of the earlier posted ones. But then again I don't claim to be an intellectual.

At the end of the day, if they mean something to you and you enjoy them, that is the most important part of writing, and blogging them.

Ordinary Girl said...

Sits drumming fingers impatiently...!