Conjuring

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Conjuring

Postby Saturn » Wed Nov 08, 2006 2:53 pm

Conjuring

I try to conjure
Thoughts of you
In my dreams
But nothing comes.

As if a surfeit
Of day-dreams
Tire the mind
Of its need.

What arts,
What spell
Can I use
To invoke

A nightly vision
Of consummation?

Once only:

I dreamt I was dying
And you came to me.
You held my hand
As I told of my love.
We kissed but once
Then slowly I died.

It seems to me
The heart cannot
Even be full,
Not even fantasy
Can ever make
The impossible
Come true.

Weary days
Drag ever on
And magic dies
Leaving art
Too poor
To compensate.

I am Faustus
Selling my soul
Each day anew.

Nor wealth,
Nor power,
Nor wisdom
Do I ask.

That which is
Eternal, pure,
Universal
Yet elusive.

Ask no more.
Spirits refuse
Such request.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Credo Buffa » Wed Nov 08, 2006 4:28 pm

Beautiful language here, Saturn. The words flow off your tongue when you read it.
"Holy Kleenex, Batman! It was right under our nose and we blew it!"
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Postby Saturn » Wed Nov 08, 2006 10:41 pm

Poetry from its very beginning was meant to be read aloud of course.

I try to write so that it could be recited, or at least so that it doesn't leave you tongue-tied.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Credo Buffa » Wed Nov 08, 2006 11:14 pm

When you write a line, do you say it aloud along with the lines before it to hear how it sounds before committing it to paper?
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Postby Saturn » Wed Nov 08, 2006 11:18 pm

No, I just think of how it would sound, or say it in my head

I often come up with a line during the night or walking in the street so if I started saying it out loud I'd get very strange looks.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby dks » Thu Nov 09, 2006 10:23 pm

Nice one, Saturn. I love the sparse language--it adds volumes to what's emoted here...it is quite a lovely piece. I really love the allusion to Faust...and I love these stanzas in particular:

Weary days
Drag ever on
And magic dies
Leaving art
Too poor
To compensate.

I am Faustus
Selling my soul
Each day anew.

Nor wealth,
Nor power,
Nor wisdom
Do I ask.

That which is
Eternal, pure,
Universal
Yet elusive.


The yearning is palpable...
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Thu Nov 09, 2006 10:39 pm

Desperation rather than yearning I think Denise.

Yearning has a rationality about it but love and obsession in this case has no basis in rationality at all, at least to me.

I am deranged, or at least demented by my own desires.

Who cannot help but be when what or whom you most desire is in front of you, yet never further away.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby AhDistinctly » Thu Nov 09, 2006 10:56 pm

I agree with Denise. I thought the sparse language reinforced your perspective, which was underpinned by this stanza:

Weary days
Drag ever on
And magic dies
Leaving art
Too poor
To compensate.

And good observation, Credo, about the oral/verbal quality of this piece.

Very nice, indeed!
...perched and sat and nothing more...
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Postby dks » Fri Nov 10, 2006 1:36 am

Saturn wrote:Desperation rather than yearning I think Denise.

Yearning has a rationality about it but love and obsession in this case has no basis in rationality at all, at least to me.

I am deranged, or at least demented by my own desires.

Who cannot help but be when what or whom you most desire is in front of you, yet never further away.


...I can identify...
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Fri Nov 10, 2006 1:50 am

Yes I know - we're both crazy :?
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Postby dks » Fri Nov 10, 2006 3:33 am

Saturn wrote:Yes I know - we're both crazy :?


*chuckle* I rather like it...don't think I could have it any other way...
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Fri Nov 10, 2006 10:14 am

Makes life very difficult though :?

Here's a little on-the-spot doggerel:

Oh love thou art a changling boy
Who playeth so subtly on thy bow,
Plucking forth my heart strings low
As if they were a children's toy.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby dks » Fri Nov 10, 2006 6:15 pm

Saturn wrote:Makes life very difficult though :?

Here's a little on-the-spot doggerel:

Oh love thou art a changling boy
Who playeth so subtly on thy bow,
Plucking forth my heart strings low
As if they were a children's toy.


Pretty damn good on the spot! :shock:
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Sat Nov 11, 2006 1:04 am

It feels like I just remembered it from somewhere else.

:?
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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