When you die
The world dies with you
So do not die today
For we wish to live
There are those
Who think blood romantic
Hotly infused with love
And vampiric passion
Blood is a machine
An engine of transfer
That allows us to silently
Eat the atmosphere
Imbeciles can talk of perfect love
Of immortality and wine
But what are these next to oxygen
And her demigod sister hemoglobin
Love the line about eating the atmosphere (so true) . Another very cool merging of science and poetry. -chuck
I like this poem for its originality and an interesting way to consider our sitz im Leben. I believe it is true that, someway or other, what each one of us does affects others (When you die the world dies with you) Vampiric - well chosen word. “Blood is a machine” - what would we do without our machines? And we mostly think of the heart as so essential. As you point out only the word is modern. The reality was there in the beginning.
My guess is the last friend of Chryses is Apollo, but I like the fact that the question is left open. I also like the implication that oxygen and hemoglobin might form the basis for a new mythology. More importantly, the truth contained in the first stanza (and twisted playfully) doesn’t seem affected by any of the progress from Greek mythology to romanticized blood to the (seemingly questionable) scientific view. This one has a rich, enigmatic aura that shifts with the changing light of day. Very nicely done. Thank you! -G
A very interesting write characterized by your ability to think far deeper than most. Excellent work as usual Tailor, you definitely have not lost your touch. I must move on to the next poem and see what awaits me. Melvina
Hi Tailor for these words suffused with red and gold............thankyou...! ! Love, D.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a many layered piece with mythological, biological and philosophical threads that weave in and out of your words. A classical vs the romantic interpretation perhaps? 'Zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintenance' comes to mind. Fascinating poem. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥