The Origins of PoetryA Poem by BrookeThe Origins of Poetry Brooke
DiGia On a particularly ashen
epoch, sky-spindles weaving the
clouds until they were as
impenetrable as the ocean below,
horizons a mesh of the two (the
blueness of sky something arcane now),
God dove down from his heaven Calliope was born too
long ago but she still cried like
a child from the absence of
creatures inclined to weave tales; [seclusion] is
not meant for storytellers. In the ocean, primordial
soup, God visited the chambered
nautilus and said: creatures I
have ascribed to land do not call up to
Calliope, but you must know of a suitable
story for her. I know not of such a story. You have been here for
eons. Uneventful eons. Uneventful? I created a
new world! Creatures have not moved since then. Why have the creatures
not moved? What is there for them to move for? (in a godly sardonic
tone) How may I make the creatures move? Endow them with the legs to move beyond the sea… And? Physical movement will inspire mental movement. Calliope
shall have her stories. (Take note: God’s lesson
from one of his own creatures was omitted in ensuing
texts) Intrigued, God fixated on
the plankton; in these eukaryotic cells
he infused the
indescribable, rivulets of vitality through
cytoplasm, granted them microscopic
appendages and said: Move &
Describe. So out of the ocean they
moved, the task of description
bundled in the nucleus of poetry strapped to their cellular
backs it is time we realized our penchant for poetry predates what we call Homo sapiens sapiens; not in our minds the
essence lies but in our very bodies. © 2014 Brooke |
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Added on July 25, 2014 Last Updated on July 25, 2014 Author
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