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What I said
Rebounds,
Resounds
In ways
I did not say
My words
Return in fractals
I do not comprehend
Less than ever said
But more than I
Intend
Words live
Forever
In the ether.
Spirit voices
Once raised
Transcend,
Weave rounds,
Viral wreaths
Endless fugues,
And
Arial arrays
The life of the word
Is unbroken
The speaker hears
Only a token
Of what anyone
Has ever
Spoken.
© Roy Conant
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April 23rd, 2008 at 5:13 pm
I won’t make a practice of reposting, but this and one or two other compositions were posted without sufficient attention to aural comprehension…
While the kernel of meaning (is there such extant?) remains, the presentation is radically different. Enjoy! roy
April 23rd, 2008 at 6:58 pm
This is very good , Roy. Worth the reposting. Enjoyed.
Ida
April 24th, 2008 at 9:56 am
Who was it that said, “Not the Word, but in the beginning was relations” ? The poem, as Edward Hirsch so eloquently points out, is a process of revelation and discovery between the poet and the reader, that as the poem is read, the poet is transformed through the edification of the mind of the reader! I never thought of it this way, but the “relation” is there in what the poem does to and in the mind of the reader. This poem catches on fire in the closing stanza, as it reaffirms the hunger to hear more of what is spoken against our incapacity to consume the whole loaf!
The Word is here so eloquently spoken!
Art
May 1st, 2008 at 11:43 am
Ah, the latter is greater than the former! That attests to the value of digging deeper into the stores of experiences and the well spring of imagination. Excellent work, Roy!
Art