A budding poet learning to express
Pouring the images of the conceived world;
The sensibility maturing with years
The abstract becoming concrete and the concrete abstract;
Shares with the world the inner core of mind
Few dropp deep with him the rest read and don’t mind.
What is it?
Is it Wordsworth’s overflow of Powerful Feelings
Or Eliot’s Escapism from a Personality
Or just a passing thought eager to take birth
Groomed and nurtured with words
Rescued by Coleridge’s Secondary Imagination
Constructing Deconstructing comprehended
By modest and learned souls,
Thus matter converted to flux
Imparting admission to the creator and the created.
Poetry is a very tricky touch to demonstrate the nature of life-affirming words that when spoken or read, establish enigmatic tribulation and the modifier of impenetrable incomprehensibility. I think you've managed to write a well-meaninged account that at any particular moment, the human mind seems to find away of trying to get around the nebulous grasp on reality crowned the words.
Splenid insight Abha. From an escape to a delight... or just good therapy.
You have captured images in flight By this great erudite write Apart from being a natural born poet, you display great knowledge about the subject. Take care...
One thing you can come away with here is that - there is almost an endless mixture of contemplative intentions and lingering anxieties that feed the celebration of poetry and all the poets that pleasure in it's limitless possibility. You alight and account for the profound moments quite well, that have been obtained through enigmatic probes and epiphanies within poetic literature.
Poetry any type, should communicate effectively…beautifully emotionally and pleasantly. Both the poet and the reader alike have a mind and option to accept creations at their best or worst
I love how you always throw in literary references. As with all your work, this is very deep and well written. A poet love's deeply introspective poetry as well as poetry that analyzes the world philosophically (atleast in my opinion) you convey much of this.
Its none of those things. Its communication. That's all it is. A communication that either succeeds or fails. Which depends on a thousand readers to determine. The poet can create whatever fantasy he wishes on paper but it will never equal that created in his own mind that tells him he is a success; when, in fact, he is a failure. GW62
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very interesting and thoughtfull.....nice poem