Two Poets, Six Years Ago
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Two Poets, Six Years Ago
by BC Williams Tue 31 May 2011, 2:14 am
.
To see with the heart, to feel with the eye
is that the nature of things?
(Me)
My words were arrows with suction cup tips.
I fired a quiver full in all directions until it hits
someone in the eye, she said it was her heart.
She removed it with a foot.
Now she kisses another man with her fist.
I can't help it if I'm lucky.
(You)
A single belle she rings out everyday.
She chimes in when she's ready
here's what I saw her say,
"I will, I will, not hurt another being.
My self can be excluded my heart is used
to seeing what my eye only feels."
Pity the heart so blind -
the life so very narrow and dry and straight
as an arrow and my mind
would fly away to forests green
and rainbows multicolored day.
And if I could but dance then even a single bell could sing.
Me . . .
Precisely vague, ambiguous and exact, what would words be if they did not go beyond words? Forgive me . . . .
I was already forgiven
and You no less enjoy
the grace of Loving being
all about you and within.
But to thyself in Time
reason conflicts with faith
and a perfect understanding
is neither yours nor mine.
Release the reins and horses
slow to graze beside the stream
Release the flood of rivers
and flows the wandering courses.
I cannot to thy perfect understanding
appease the hunger of the heart.
Neither can I give a fledgling wings
The gift of my own imperfection
was my part.
JA:
"We are such stuff as dreams are made of." W. Shakespeare
I will be the stuff of dreams, because I will never be, really. I imagine and what I imagine becomes real. I imagine you are free, blissfully, totally, completely free.
I am being logical and rational in all respects. I am engaged with a book which poses the problem of "what, is real?" You may wish to help me understand because you, are the stuff that dreams are made of. I did not dream you up. You were here asking to be free, no?
In return, for I am already free, I ask the gift of Salomon, 'wisdom' - a woman's wisdom. You have to be 'wise'. I will return, either here or in dreams and you may feel serene and comforted. In return you must promise to be wise, or as wise as you think you are, ok? Then all will be well with you.
Your wise mind will be in control and no harm can come.
.
TOP Or Back to Women of Strength
Bobby: This is wonderful showing the feelings of these two for one another. Did they ever meet do you know ?
BW: . . . yes I do know, they never met.
Bobby: Sad ending to a lovely start. Pity as you could feel a special bonding. All that just to turn to dust. Sad really, the Internet can be a vast, lonely place .
Dori: That it can Bobby, it can never replace the real love that people need...
Bobby: Yes Dori, but is there such a thing? I think poets live more for fantasy than reality so maybe that was their special love that can never die as it is now written for eternity. Someone somewhere will read this with envy.
Dori: I agree with you on that. I think a lot of the time, that's why I wrote love poetry, to have love in my life. It was my way of having the kind of love that I don't have.
Bobby: I see what you mean Dori. I don't think we ever find the kind of love we really want, but we accept a compromising love as what person can actually and fully understand you, or you him?
Michelle: Ok...Bev...I love this piece. searching the depths for that love...only to find it's not touchable. Call me a hopeless romantic....full of wishful thinking..whatever, but I think it can be found. Love is a different experience for everyone, we all interpret love as something different, if it's by doing things, saying things..whatever. My point is this...as different as we all are...there are others that experience it the same way, or pretty darn close to what we want or think we want in someone. I have to believe that for as many people out there filled with hate, there are just as many filled with love..that they want and need to share. Gosh...what would be the point if I didn't hold onto that. So I will stay in my fantasy world...and hope and pray that maybe others will join me.
Bobby: So does this mean there is hope for me yet Michelle ..?
Michelle: There's always hope..
Bobby: For me, I don't know. I have never been very lucky in relationships as I am too free spirited and hate being tied down to one place. I know that sounds selfish but I have tried my hardest to change and be what others wanted me to be and it was never enough for them, they always wanted more as if to have every thing including your identity.
BW: Michelle . . . I do believe in the power of words. Words can be built to the heights of Heaven, yet stoop to embrace the fallen heart. There are emotions that strive along side *love* .. . but in words we may build trust and faith in another that would take years in real time relationships!
I agree with Bobby wholeheartedly - we poets have something else the un-poet doesn't: the ability to project love in such a way that kindred spirits are helpless to ignore. As JA said:
My words were arrows with suction cup tips.
I fired a quiver full in all directions until it hits
someone in the eye, she said it was her heart..
Bobby:
Bugger the other love, did you just write that? ...Lovely, I'm floored.
BW: Yes, I just wrote that, but he was a much better poet than I and I loved studying his symbolism:-)
Bobby: Wow! Some meaning in two little lines. You are right, just shows you the power of the pen.
Dori: I am a hopeless romantic too, as you know by my poems. But to believe in love, and falling in love; that is hard for me.
WHEN and IF I do, he will be the kind of man that is not a home body. I need to get out and have a good time, life is too short to stay at home 24/7. There is a big world out there and I would like to see it before I die, when I'm 115.
Bobby: I'm a sceptic but I am persistent.
<< Feminine
Or perhaps another category of poems?
Inmorata - Trope - Kids
Humor - Agape - Nature
Miscellaneous
Do you believe there can be a meeting of minds without actually meeting in a physical sense? Do you believe it's possible to fall for the written first, then realize it's the writer that's mentoring your heart? And what then can be done, but to comfort one another. For surely time, space, and the reality of one's existence will limit the possibilities. But a heart does not need to see; a soul can feel words . . .
This is a discourse between two poets six years ago
JA:To see with the heart, to feel with the eye
is that the nature of things?
(Me)
My words were arrows with suction cup tips.
I fired a quiver full in all directions until it hits
someone in the eye, she said it was her heart.
She removed it with a foot.
Now she kisses another man with her fist.
I can't help it if I'm lucky.
(You)
A single belle she rings out everyday.
She chimes in when she's ready
here's what I saw her say,
"I will, I will, not hurt another being.
My self can be excluded my heart is used
to seeing what my eye only feels."
Pity the heart so blind -
the life so very narrow and dry and straight
as an arrow and my mind
would fly away to forests green
and rainbows multicolored day.
And if I could but dance then even a single bell could sing.
Me . . .
Precisely vague, ambiguous and exact, what would words be if they did not go beyond words? Forgive me . . . .
........BW:
........What then comes of this,
........the forlorn, the disadvantaged belle waiting
........at half opened windows
........weeping over fine, spring days past?
........As I've had shall be no more,
........my life coasts long, capricious shores
........waiting in shell shock darkness,
........awaiting that word
........my soul harkens for to see with my heart,
........to feel with kindest eye,
........to know desire for me still, still abides.
........You . . . are forgiven.
JA:........What then comes of this,
........the forlorn, the disadvantaged belle waiting
........at half opened windows
........weeping over fine, spring days past?
........As I've had shall be no more,
........my life coasts long, capricious shores
........waiting in shell shock darkness,
........awaiting that word
........my soul harkens for to see with my heart,
........to feel with kindest eye,
........to know desire for me still, still abides.
........You . . . are forgiven.
I was already forgiven
and You no less enjoy
the grace of Loving being
all about you and within.
But to thyself in Time
reason conflicts with faith
and a perfect understanding
is neither yours nor mine.
Release the reins and horses
slow to graze beside the stream
Release the flood of rivers
and flows the wandering courses.
I cannot to thy perfect understanding
appease the hunger of the heart.
Neither can I give a fledgling wings
The gift of my own imperfection
was my part.
BW:
Your words intrigue me. I dreamt last night . . . you, walking in the woods looking for “gems” under moss and lichens. Such a silly dream really, but it was serene and comforting. I called out to you but you didn't hear me. I'm not sure why that was . . ..
Your words intrigue me. I dreamt last night . . . you, walking in the woods looking for “gems” under moss and lichens. Such a silly dream really, but it was serene and comforting. I called out to you but you didn't hear me. I'm not sure why that was . . ..
"We are such stuff as dreams are made of." W. Shakespeare
I will be the stuff of dreams, because I will never be, really. I imagine and what I imagine becomes real. I imagine you are free, blissfully, totally, completely free.
I am being logical and rational in all respects. I am engaged with a book which poses the problem of "what, is real?" You may wish to help me understand because you, are the stuff that dreams are made of. I did not dream you up. You were here asking to be free, no?
In return, for I am already free, I ask the gift of Salomon, 'wisdom' - a woman's wisdom. You have to be 'wise'. I will return, either here or in dreams and you may feel serene and comforted. In return you must promise to be wise, or as wise as you think you are, ok? Then all will be well with you.
Your wise mind will be in control and no harm can come.
BW:
In my dream, it was warmly bright and my ears saw what my mouth remembered. I think maybe it was me looking for wisdom on the north side of trees.
........A woman named Wise -
........her secrets freed
........through mystery's imagination.
........A pale, weakened flame
........carried high on raven's wings
........as soft whispers taking flight,
........searching for the perfect embrace
........of sweet wisdom's linger . . ..
........© 2006 by JA and BW
In my dream, it was warmly bright and my ears saw what my mouth remembered. I think maybe it was me looking for wisdom on the north side of trees.
........A woman named Wise -
........her secrets freed
........through mystery's imagination.
........A pale, weakened flame
........carried high on raven's wings
........as soft whispers taking flight,
........searching for the perfect embrace
........of sweet wisdom's linger . . ..
........© 2006 by JA and BW
.
TOP Or Back to Women of Strength
Past comment thread
Bobby: This is wonderful showing the feelings of these two for one another. Did they ever meet do you know ?
BW: . . . yes I do know, they never met.
Bobby: Sad ending to a lovely start. Pity as you could feel a special bonding. All that just to turn to dust. Sad really, the Internet can be a vast, lonely place .
Dori: That it can Bobby, it can never replace the real love that people need...
Bobby: Yes Dori, but is there such a thing? I think poets live more for fantasy than reality so maybe that was their special love that can never die as it is now written for eternity. Someone somewhere will read this with envy.
Dori: I agree with you on that. I think a lot of the time, that's why I wrote love poetry, to have love in my life. It was my way of having the kind of love that I don't have.
Bobby: I see what you mean Dori. I don't think we ever find the kind of love we really want, but we accept a compromising love as what person can actually and fully understand you, or you him?
Michelle: Ok...Bev...I love this piece. searching the depths for that love...only to find it's not touchable. Call me a hopeless romantic....full of wishful thinking..whatever, but I think it can be found. Love is a different experience for everyone, we all interpret love as something different, if it's by doing things, saying things..whatever. My point is this...as different as we all are...there are others that experience it the same way, or pretty darn close to what we want or think we want in someone. I have to believe that for as many people out there filled with hate, there are just as many filled with love..that they want and need to share. Gosh...what would be the point if I didn't hold onto that. So I will stay in my fantasy world...and hope and pray that maybe others will join me.
Bobby: So does this mean there is hope for me yet Michelle ..?
Michelle: There's always hope..
Bobby: For me, I don't know. I have never been very lucky in relationships as I am too free spirited and hate being tied down to one place. I know that sounds selfish but I have tried my hardest to change and be what others wanted me to be and it was never enough for them, they always wanted more as if to have every thing including your identity.
BW: Michelle . . . I do believe in the power of words. Words can be built to the heights of Heaven, yet stoop to embrace the fallen heart. There are emotions that strive along side *love* .. . but in words we may build trust and faith in another that would take years in real time relationships!
I agree with Bobby wholeheartedly - we poets have something else the un-poet doesn't: the ability to project love in such a way that kindred spirits are helpless to ignore. As JA said:
My words were arrows with suction cup tips.
I fired a quiver full in all directions until it hits
someone in the eye, she said it was her heart..
Bobby:
I love this!Words can be built to the heights of Heaven, yet stoop to embrace the fallen heart.
Bugger the other love, did you just write that? ...Lovely, I'm floored.
BW: Yes, I just wrote that, but he was a much better poet than I and I loved studying his symbolism:-)
Bobby: Wow! Some meaning in two little lines. You are right, just shows you the power of the pen.
Dori: I am a hopeless romantic too, as you know by my poems. But to believe in love, and falling in love; that is hard for me.
WHEN and IF I do, he will be the kind of man that is not a home body. I need to get out and have a good time, life is too short to stay at home 24/7. There is a big world out there and I would like to see it before I die, when I'm 115.
Bobby: I'm a sceptic but I am persistent.
<< Feminine
Or perhaps another category of poems?
Inmorata - Trope - Kids
Humor - Agape - Nature
Miscellaneous
BC Williams- Author
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