Beneath the Field of Flowers

Elevate form over function to get at less easily articulable truths.

Beneath the Field of Flowers

Postby Aussenseite » Wed Nov 18, 2015 3:27 pm

The limbs, were just too strong to ignore
Your strawberry blond hair bouncing in the breeze
Leaned our bicycles against the trunk
Hoisted up and hung from our knees laughing
Walking through the canola singing
The light scent of flowers reminds me
Of how beautiful a soul can break
Become so empty, void of light
Echoing the loneliness
Heavies the heart
Until the arms you used to hold out
While we spun side by side in the sunlight
Are too weak to hold the world
How grace found you a place to rest
And you drifted into quiet slumber
I kissed your cold brow for the last time
Knowing your sorrow and suffering has ended
I am sorry I could not take your hand
To remind you of the trees and songs
Show you some of your inner beauty
Lowered into the dark ground
With flowers in your hair
Beside your son
Both too young
I miss you
“When the logician has resolved each demonstration into a host of elementary operations, all of them correct, he will not yet be in possession of the whole reality; that indefinable something that constitutes the unity of the demonstration will still escape him completely. What good is it to admire the masons work in the edifices erected by great architects, if we cannot understand the general plan of the master? Now pure logic cannot give us this view of the whole; it is to intuition we must look for it.”
~Henri Poincaré 'Science and Method'
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Re: Beneath the Field of Flowers

Postby Ierrellus » Wed Nov 18, 2015 4:14 pm

Such a beautiful poem! I hate to diminish it with interpretation. Did your friend die?
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
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Re: Beneath the Field of Flowers

Postby Ierrellus » Thu Nov 19, 2015 1:51 pm

The burden of empathy is sometimes so hard to bear. But you express it well in a poem from a soul that still can sing. Life is often a mountain of shit. But a poet digs through it with a heartfelt song. I think you accomplished that. You feel for those who can no longer feel, for those for whom life is too much to bear.
"We must love one another or die." W.H.Auden
I admit I'm an asshole. Now, can we get back to the conversation?
From the mad poet of McKinley Ave.
Ierrellus
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Posts: 12737
Joined: Sat Jun 10, 2006 12:52 pm
Location: state of evolving


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