..To Someone Who Knows Everything And Wants Nothing Poem by George Murdock

..To Someone Who Knows Everything And Wants Nothing

Rating: 4.1

Speaking above them they could not hear me
as I raged and shrieked in tongues
my head was like a fountain
words like feathers floated down
I was weightless filled with lyrics
no one else around me heard
If I could I'd fall upon them
though I'm nothing but a bird
I know they sometimes hear me
when they look up to the sky
see my shadow cross the highway
inside their cages rolling by

I am smoke, I am illusion
yet I appear as hard as stone
I am reeling in confusion
in my wisdom I ‘m alone
you can't read the sacred letters
which I've written in my heart
these secrets can't be given
it's the mystery of my art
I am the fire of my creation
I am the air that I breathe
I am the water of my salvation
I am the earth beneath my feet

You’ll never know
My deepest sorrow
Nor feel my greatest joy
I have no mouth with which to tell you
No understanding to employ

I am a bird so rare and lovely
No one’s worthy of my charms
I would rather remain lonely
than be trapped in someone’s arms

I’d rather soar the highest places
And pierce the nimbus clouds
Leaving trails without traces
I am me and I am proud

One day I’ll sleep beneath you
You’re the earth and I am air
But my spirit will leave you
You’ll try to find me I’ll not be there

Until then you will see me
Floating weightless on the wing
I will cross you as a shadow
Which covers everything

John Kay 07 December 2005

I'm not sure that I get the full drift of this, but I love the concluding lines. I'm not sure if it is a persona poem.

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Belquis Barés 08 December 2005

A shout of loneliness from a heart full of tenderness. Beautiful

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Nimal Dunuhinga 18 March 2006

An inner cry of a solitary human being, Oh! such a cry! a shriek sharply & shrilly which echoes in the entire poem.

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Patti Masterman 27 October 2006

What an awesome poem and the emotions underlying are staggering. I have read a lot of your poems and intend (hope) to read a lot more; your words are so endlessly creative and changeable. Aren't poems like a weather report of where your soul has been commuting lately?

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This poem is a tour deforce of strong, visceral images. As you read through it, it grows stronger and stronger taking off like the soaring bird referenced in it.

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Kristen Burbella 01 December 2009

I am me and I am proud... This flows so nicely and has such lovely description

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Sathyanarayana M V S 31 July 2009

Poem of unfathomable depths. At some places you seem to be a spirit and at someplaces an elemental body.........is this some kind of transition period? Great read, great words.

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Subroto Chatterjee 27 April 2009

Ah, to live the impossible dream...and I thought you were talking about me! But seriously, I think there is some underestimation going on here. You are a first-rate poet, by George! Just like a gurgling brook..finding back all the lost youthful vigor (if not the innocence!) . Keep on George...Keep on! ! Cheers. Subroto

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Ted Sheridan 18 April 2009

Excellence. I really like your writing because it is more prose than poetry.

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Ramesh T A 22 September 2008

It's a well evolving poem, a medium actually meant for that which is not possible in other forms of literature. Make use of poetry medium for your expression of such ideas to produce magic in poems and thereby soar high to sublimity!

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