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Sun 4 Jul, 2004 05:29 pm
In the total absence of light,
I felt the sense of all dwellers
Who only had sweet candle sight.
I found my way in the darkness,
No special sparks of insight,
And each in that cold deprivation,
Spoke a mystical rite.
An answering voice in the middle,
Spoke wilderness--preferable to me
To forcing one's way through alleys
Of narrow beliefs that can't see
The wide vistas of the possible
Without the scars of the mind
They only confuse, don't deliver,
They only are bridals of time.
Loved it Letty but what's a bridal of time? Or should I make my own definition?
Lovely Letty, you've done it again. Beautiful.
I, too, would like to know what 'bridals of time' might be.
As always Letty, very nice.
Are your "bridals of time" considered as restraints?
Good morning,Panz, Diane, and colorbook.
Yesterday was absolutely unpredictable. There were violent thunderstorms with lightening that caused the electricity to falter several times, and, of course my pc, and in between God's fireworks there was the celebration of man. <smile>
My ISP is all fouled up, and I can neither send nor receive e-mail. All of this happening at one time, made me realize how dependent that we have become on certain things, and this inspired, to some degree, the poem.
BoGoWo will be flattered at your inquiries about "bridals of time" , because the second stanza and the final two verses were his as the result of a religious discussion that we had. I loved the phrase, and I assume it to mean a marriage of thoughts in a dead direction. As Panz observed, you may want to create your own interpretation. That's what poetry is about, you know.
P.S. I was lucky to get this far with my response to you all, my friends.
Thank you again.
Sad enough for you, SCoates?<smile> I know a lot of lullabyes, my young friend.
I just thought it was another interesting way to look at yout poem. I wasn't suggesting a change.
I'm the kind of guy that thinks movies would be better if the main characters die. To me that gets the audience far more emotionally involved than a happy ending.
Don't you remember "Red Wing"?
Far away beneath the sod her brave lies sleeping,
While red wing's weeping her heart away.
You must write a poem sometimes, SC. I think we all may be surprised at the tilt and the lilt.
I was just funnin' with you, hon. I don't change what I've written unless the muse demands it.
I have trouble straying from past poems. I'll go start something.