A Polite Hurdle

A mind for social manners

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                        A sudden, unexplainable urge can be consuming,

                        Like a walk we want to take in the leafy park.

                        Seeing all, yet asking, wherefore do they come from?

                        Do we invite them, perhaps we made an appeal?

 

                        But it is here now, standing on the bridge, looking.

                        The natives say, its the will of the once and future father,

                        A mysterious want that he felt, that grew into a desire,

                        Then caused the world to begin and I to be born in it.

 

                        Of the men of god, who claim knowledge of such things,

                        That they ask us to subscribe to, in the form they do,

                        So I'll come to know as well, change clothes, wear a frock,

                        So that I'll see better, entwined in their mystic vision.

 

                        Or shall I invent a view myself, a common man's perspective.

                        I could take the view of the cow and refine it as man's view,

                        Or maybe the snake, it has a greater continuity of purpose.

                        Perhaps I could take the view of the woman and make it mine.

 

                        Of what use these questions, other than to seek approval,

                        To constantly assure ourselves, like unending praises,

                        That we are not asking for, yet receive in bucketfuls,

                        And claims itself fulfilled, so as to crave for more?

 

                        Lift the veils of the hidden and examine the cycles,

                        Going round and round until perfection shines forth,

                        Climbing the peaks of our own creative endeavor,

                        Seeing ourselves adorned in the true magnificence.

 

                        Self-love, that we came to offer to another, selflessly,

                        Beckons us to make it our own again, in a baffling way,

                        Crouched in disguises, pretending that we are not,

                        Too polite to break a norm, yet, we yearn for its return.

                       

Reviews

[Ainigma]

I really like your message in this poem. I like how life is presented as a movement and yet the 'I' in the poem, stands still for a moment and watches everything - on a bridge, which is a very nice detail I might add, very symbolic. I like this phrase very much 'Perhaps I could take the view of the woman and make it mine'. The reinvention of what it means to be.