I, or Someone Like Me
In a wilderness, in some orchestral swing
through trees, with a wind playing all the high notes,
and the prospect of a string bass inside the wood,
I, or someone like me, had a kind of vision.
As the person on the ground moved, bursting halos
topped first one tree, then another and another,
till the work of sight was forced to go lower
into a dark lair of fallen logs and fungi.
His was the wordless death of words, worse
for he remembered exactly where the words were
on his tongue, and before that how they fell
effortlessly from the brainpan behind his eyes.
But the music continued and the valley of forest floor
became itself an interval in a natural melody
attuned to the wind, embedded in the bass of boughs,
the tenor of branches, the percussion of twigs.
He, or someone like him, laughed at first,
dismissing what had happened as the incandescence
of youthful metabolism, as the slight fermentation
of the last of the wine, or as each excuse of love.
Learning then the constancy of music and of mind,
now he takes seriously that visionary wood
where he saw his being and his future underfoot
and someone like me listening for a resolution.
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Comments about this poem (I, or Someone Like Me by Marvin Bell )
- Make in India, gajanan mishra
- Respectable, Dean Meredith
- Artists, kassem oude
- दिनैनि गोसोखांथियाव, Ronjoy Brahma
- Make others do, gajanan mishra
- MY FEELINGS FOR YOU, AMADU KAMARA
- From Gandhiji's Quotes for Gandhi Jayanthi, Dr John Celes
- Seeing, Aparna Chatterjee
- O American Girl, Will You Take With You?, Bijay Kant Dubey
- A Woman in Love, Akhtar Jawad
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