POWERS OF COMPREHENSION
expectations
powers
responsive
&
laden
pictures
of
sublime
imagery
causing
conscious
&
imitative
aesthetic
concerns
to
soon
blossom
powerful
coloured
visions
aiding
understanding
LIFE REALITY
strikingly
clear
arrestingly
similar
yet
insignificant
coincidences
inclined
understandings
profound
thoughts
bring
solace
existentially
precarious
&
prosaic
intense
initiatives
exaggerating
exclusive
imitative
highlights
catalyising
personality
excesses
QUATTROCENTO
atmospheric
imaginings
of
conscious
alternatives
apprehended
sporadic
lavish
imitative
waning
interest
a dilemma
of
extreme
personal
eccentricity
QUATTROCENTO
atmospheric
imaginings
of
conscious
alternatives
apprehended
sporadic
lavish
imitative
waning
interest
a dilemma
of
extreme
personal
eccentricity
RESPONSES
microcosm
show
in a still
life
exotic
emblems
in
magnificent
detail
creative
durable
meaning
a
closer
experience
the
essence
of succession
so
characteristic
&
sensual
reflecting
the
unexpected
positioned
discovered
with
undivided
attention
DISTRACTIONS
expressive
resonations
rhythm
reverberating
structuring
contours
process
the potential
in
prevai
prevailing
one-dimensional
straightened
imitative
balanced
&translated
appearance
in the abstract
TRADITIONS
prevailing
so naturally
start anew
singularly
profoundly
free
filling
the organic
with
decorative
linearity
LITERARY FORM
the suspense
sealed
unexpected
then unmasked
imitative
with exploited variations
influential concepts
innocence
templated
remains
chronicled &experimental
intermittent
yet ultimate
but
seemingly discovered
an aspect unreasoned
yet
pure
relevant &equivalent
ingenuous
daring&
yet defying
cryptic interpretation
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Every generation thinks it's better than the previous one
Smarter, faster, better-educated, more creative
What would be something refreshingly new under the sun
~ The next one admitting it's mostly imitative
Fallen upon knees in ashes of pipe dreamer’s infatuation
chimera's collective stardust reigning through macrocosms,
world spins counterclockwise unrealistically bound hiatus
stained glass mirrors fracture in rhetorical opposition,
earthly beings condensed to mere commonplace residue
threadbare allegiances written on worn out constitutions,
idly spinning cogwheels from premier breath to closer exhale
angels hark intensely attempting to assuage inevitability
whilst calm winds yield to maelstroms' imitative gesticulations
forfeitures of human activity sacrificed in sins' germinal vices
banal platitudes reinforcing an elusively unoriginal existence,
dancing 'round the fire tween inquisitions' reluctant commendations
preparedness on conventional suspension of ill-advised reiterations,
awaiting surrender 'neath an incoherent vigil's unorthodox rite of
incarnate passages' disconnected resolve mid consequential rationale
thereupon...
timelessness is but a variable symbol
factored in mankind's hallucinatory prayers
My mother used to have a radio
Bagged in black imitative leather;
The round speaker, volume, tuner in front,
And a small antenna is hidden on top.
When she pickled bamboo shoots or fishes,
Or when she filled up cotton mattress,
She loved to listen to traditional music.
She turned to country songs during her sewing.
She listened to the folkloric plays
While she was busy in the backyard.
If by accident, she turned to the news show;
She stayed there for a while to save ideas
For a dinner discussion with my father.
Then one day she dropped the radio:
The traditional music ceased.
She tapped it, hoping to recover the situation:
Radio revived, but the tuning knob locked up;
Her amusing stations were unreachable;
Only the news broadcast noise.
She did not want to spend money
To bring to the shop or to buy a new one.
She listened to the propaganda news.
For the long years, the radio made
My mother’s world heartlessly shrinks!
Self-Image
by Odin Roark
Once of water
Man first eyed himself
Perhaps leaning to drink
Club in one hand
Food clenched firmly in the other
Even today
How arresting first glance must be
While a mother hovers
Cooing with pride
The infant stares up
A crib’s mobile of heart-mirrors
Reflecting images just beginning
Sooner than later
Such imitative echoes become real
Revealing deception’s potency
Urging actuality into the shadows
Giving inner truth little chance
Such becomes one’s three-way mirror
What others see
What might be
What is inexorable
Façade’s reflection
Vague
Invented
Contorted
Mired
Forged
Such folly
Mere antecedent
Ultimately without a trace
I try not to read
other people's stuff,
too much.
Cause when I do,
I'm left with
this disquieting feeling
that it's all been said,
and much better.
That's why I hate
that damned Bukowski
so much.
For days after
I am derivative
and imitative.
I can't live with him.
I can't live without him,
and I drive him out the door,
and his overdue books are taken
back to the library and paid for
with a vengence.
But if I can just keep tromping
across this poetic veldt,
recklessly mixing metaphors
and crushing sentences underhoof
like some adolescent rhino,
I might, in my innocence
of what is proper,
find a clearing by a gentle pool,
where no one's been before,
and I will sink to my knees
in the mud,
drink deeply of waters
that have never been described,
breathe deeply the scent of flowers,
that no one knows,
and I will tell you about it,
and you will come
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