And the winner is ...

The writer picked up his pen and 

stared at a blank page and tried

to explain the inane, insane

ramblings of his tortured, wonderous

beatific mind in 2D,

 like the

pencil drawing of the Monastery;

A monk staring at a far away

mountain

it is out there and it is 

beautiful and ornate and covered

in gold

you just can't see it for the clouds

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

but when the clouds lift...there is much for the poet to see...much that will move his pen...
and the clouds inside...like the ink inside the pen...
there are tears and there are writings...
and the one constant...the clouds pass by, sometimes staying awhile...sometimes not.
but something just keeps moving our pen.
j.

[gram linski]

great poem, j. as Bukowski once said ^take away my typewriter and all you have left is the sickness that started me writing in the first place,*.lol, we have that sickness, and it is a wonderful thing

[Eilis]

The last four stanzas of this are stunning. It’s very airy, spiritual imagery which nevertheless continues to elude. How many poems are there housed in our minds that are just out of reach/out of frame.

But, as kind of monks ourselves, we won’t stop watching the golden dance or reaching for the just-so word to make it come to life. This is the solitary scope of the poet’s life and a noble journey, even if only in the self.

I don’t believe in a muse, so I won’t talk about her. But I do believe in an infinite power within us that reaches to understand and explain. How rare it is to feel like the vision is fully realized. But perhaps if it ever was we’d get lost in our own nirvana and stop the pursuit.

The beauty lies in the chase. At least that’s what my inner monk told me. A great poem for the poet’s heart, Gram. A certain centering gentleness among the prickle of understanding. Good stuff.

[gram linski]

how can you describe the golden dance of infinite power in finite language, glad you enjoyed, once again thanks, Eilis,

[Beccy]

Tortured or not, the winner is always the beatific mind of the poet. Can't wait for the day when we all have little hologram machines in our homes. Just imagine our imagination in 3D.

Beccy.

[gram linski]

hahaha, what a wonderful, scary thought, my brain lives in 5d so got a couple of dimensions to spare, lol,

[Robert Trakofler]

I am sitting at my home this 4 foot square of disorganized muck my desk a smatter interspersed with little bits of art laying about me. I am drinking my last cup of coffee just reveling in its warmth and taste now reflecting on this poem and now feeling the warmth in the knowledge that others have those feelings and also live with such a splendid malady:) now this could in fact also be construed as the ole misery loves company expression LOL but you know I'm just smiling! thanks for the smile now I'm off to work to show it off!

[gram linski]

haha, thanks, B. as a dour faced b*****d myself, my new year resolution is toraiseasmile,#/ifyoucantfuckinglaughatlifethenfuku.com