Pnyx

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Pnyx

Postby Saturn » Mon Jan 15, 2007 1:01 am

The first verse is further to a discussion today on another thread:


Pnyx*

Poesy won't do:
I'm sorry, it can't
Articulate.
The heart is
Tongueless,
Dumb;
Can't speak
For itself;
Only beat
Soundless
And sore.

Yet I try to think,
Try to remember
The first glimpse,
That first time
That I saw you.

I remember now
Sitting, hedged
In the middle,
The three of us,
Packed as a jury
In the old Pnyx,
Ostrakons* ready.
Witnesses? Prosecutors?
You were ushered in,
Abashed, so delicate.

You sparkled then
Unnaturally bright,
But you shuddered,
A nervous sway,
Energy of anxiety.

I dared not look,
Afraid of an Eclipse.
I was still hollow,
My heart sunken,
Encrusted with hurt.
You made but a splash,
A pebble's impression
Compared to the boulder
That swamps me now.

How far we've come,
How close we are now
My girl, my sweet love
From those dark days.

I couldn't have known
You'd engulf my all,
Envelop my soul.
----------------




*The Pnyx was the official meeting place of the Athenian democratic assembly (ekklesia). In the earliest days of Athenian democracy (after the reforms of Kleisthenes in 508 B.C.), the ekklesia met in the Agora. Sometime in the early 5th century, the meeting place was moved to a hill south and west of the Acropolis. This new meeting place came to be called "Pnyx" (from the Greek word meaning "tightly packed together".

*An ostracon (Greek: ὄστρακον ostrakon, plural ὄστρακα ostraka) is a piece of pottery (or stone), usually broken off from a vase or other earthenware vessel. In archaeology, ostraca may contain scratched-in words or other forms of writing which may give clues as to the time when the piece was in use. The word is derived from Greek ostrakon, meaning a shell or a shard of pottery used as a voting ballot. It is a common error for the plural form ostraca to be used as the singular for ostracon.

In Ancient Greece, the voting public would write or scratch the name of a person in the shard of pottery. When the decision at hand was to banish or exile a certain member of society, citizen peers would cast their vote by writing the name of the person on the piece of pottery; the vote was counted and if unfavorable the person was put out of the city, thus giving rise to the term ostracism.
Last edited by Saturn on Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby dks » Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:43 pm

:shock: Mary Mother of God. How do you do that? You go from writing verse that is tightly wound and inverted--to these veritable master works...this is quite extraordinary...

...the metaphor flows right to the immediacy of feeling at the end...

The heart is tongueless, dumb...love this...

I remember now
Sitting, hedged
In the middle,
The three of us,
Packed as a jury
In the old Pnyx,
Ostrakons* ready.
Witnesses? Prosecutors?
You were ushered in,
Abashed, so delicate.


...nice allusion...very fitting and purposeful.


You made but a splash,
A pebble's impression
Compared to the boulder
That swamps me now.


:shock: beautifully stated...expresses impact so truly...

...and that last stanza...it aches so beautifully and sadly... :(


How far we've come,
How close we are now
My girl, my sweet love
From those dark days.

I couldn't have known
You'd engulf my all,
Envelop my soul.


Bravo.
"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the Truth of Imagination."
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Postby Saturn » Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:50 pm

:oops:

It's a kind of desperation, a release of feeling which otherwise would eat me up.

Poetry is to me like food is to an anorexic - I cannot keep it down.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Saturn » Mon Jan 15, 2007 11:54 pm

How do you write Denise?

Where?

When?

I find most of my lines come to me in the depth of night and I fumble in the dark for the light switch and grab my journal and a pen in order to just scribble down the lines going through my head.

Often there is no clear idea of a theme of a poem, just an attempt to describe a feeling or a moment.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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