We may have it the wrong way
intellect being a dirge
for the cat carrying its kittens
does not question or consider
why do I torture the rat and flee the fox?
simply nature propels her onward
no coincidence then
the more we are aware the greater our potential for
grief and a disconsolate ring
with the emptiness perceived
we seek in our fervor
more out of this plain life
standing watching the first seasons’ dragonflies
wishing for meaning or distinction
spelt out in philosophy books empty of bottom line
who made us? why? why?
the infernal hum of internal conflict
I recall a russet haired cousin
born with the mind of a child
never to graduate or spell correctly
her smiles always somehow less
artificial
she delighted in as the young foal
spring filled fields of flowers and thick hedgerows
buzzing with honey bee mastering his lust for nectar
not considering all the pain
held in the wetted weight of world
hers inhabited moments
living under sun without query
heart unable to contemplate
greater or sorrowful fates
I dearly envied her that
for every year closer to increasing reason
intellect building artifices as often
as truths
without faith or illusion
clearing our eyes and seeing
the way the nest falls from ash tree
all offspring dying at the hand of passing predator
the way women walk with their
purses clutched to their sides and heavy tread
this is only nature or maybe perversion
yet we grieve attempting
change where none should exist
as well as those never-changing
each generation learning shared impulses
to destroy because they can
I planted a tree once
it grew without question
I married a man twice
he needed no religion to know
the sun would come up the next day
nothing was worth worrying about
when certainty took her carriage across
emblazoning sky with greater things
than our imperfect longing minds
we who fitfully seek
higher elucidation
writing out descriptions of existence
with punctuated heartache
as the blind man must fathom
his colors
we walk in darkness believing
ourselves electric
until the storm wipes out
all trace of our absolve
for we are ink running on a page
leaving time before even the imprint
is deep enough
impermanence our greatest torment
such is the grind of egos want
to matter
we who think and believe we feel
perhaps cursed by too much awareness
ironically know less than less
no more than the rabbit pricks up his ears
thinks he hears a sound, could be all of us
crying out
we cannot follow the wild
for our modern natures are muzzled
behind the weight of thought
as if consciousness were an apple
eaten and consumed behind library books
taking root in liquid storm
Genesis bequeathed us knowledge
to know suffering and our part
in the fragile glittering stage
at cost to inner peace
we search fruitlessly for purpose
whilst those who know less
sit in the sun and feel
the certainty of
nothing’s blessing
(I often want to give-up writing and thinking in favor of life beyond the social spectrum, where we learn to make things again, build and grow in basic and lost terms. Sometimes thinking can be a curse, much as I must covet it, I see the down-side. Moderation must be everything but it is hard, usually we are either thrown over to one side or the other, I have long valued words and reading, but I do see their potential fallacy just as I do, the bliss of unknowing).
TheFeatheredSleep 
The happy fool isn’t a myth, but is that who you really want to be? I don’t think so.
Right, it’s not, but I suppose I see clearer now, that it’s not a myth, I can see the ‘relief’ of it, though you know me well, would rather grit my teeth and still SEE.
I’m pleased to hear it 🙂
Plus I get your humor and cherish it! 😉 we are uncannily of like mind!
I’m pleased to hear that too 🙂
Yes sometimes writing and thinking can be a curse.. But we write.. we create with our thoughts, Thoughts create our reality. And it is only by our conscious thinking we change this reality in which men create war that we writers strive to create peace..
Never give up those thoughts dear Candice.. For great poets have with ‘certainty’.. Left their mark upon this earth.. <3…
Your poetry is brilliant. But i did get a little bit lost. Thinking this might be two poems? Just a thought. I like it
Thank you I really appreciate your kindness!
You encourage me greatly my wise and inspired friend ♡♡♡
“Such is the grind of ego’s want – to matter ” today I was thinking about one of the best professors I ever knew. He was a Buddhist and a Quaker. It was as if he had no ego. I’m sure he has passed away by now but much the same as those with huge ego’s….with huge wants and with huge delusions of self importantance. Both are left with the same….perhaps someone thinks of them now and then. Thank you for sharing your wonderful gifts!
Can’t go wrong with a Quaker and a Buddhist; ) I adore the egoless but it’s hard in this world!
More wonderful imagery. I understand the desire to give up writing and the curse of thinking; and I don’t see you embracing moderation
🙂 always pleased to know I inspire… As do your poems and posts Candice.. ❤
Great poem, profound thoughts raised, reminds me theme-wise of this – hope you don’t mind be pasting it:-
‘Thrushes’ by Ted Hughes
Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn,
More coiled steel than living – a poised
Dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
Triggered to stirrings beyond sense – with a start, a bounce,
a stab
Overtake the instant and drag out some writhing thing.
No indolent procrastinations and no yawning states,
No sighs or head-scratchings. Nothing but bounce and stab
And a ravening second.
Is it their single-mind-sized skulls, or a trained
Body, or genius, or a nestful of brats
Gives their days this bullet and automatic
Purpose? Mozart’s brain had it, and the shark’s mouth
That hungers down the blood-smell even to a leak of its own
Side and devouring of itself: efficiency which
Strikes too streamlined for any doubt to pluck at it
Or obstruction deflect.
With a man it is otherwise. Heroisms on horseback,
Outstripping his desk-diary at a broad desk,
Carving at a tiny ivory ornament
For years: his act worships itself – while for him,
Though he bends to be blent in the prayer, how loud and
above what
Furious spaces of fire do the distracting devils
Orgy and hosannah, under what wilderness
Of black silent waters weep.
Ignorance can be blissful, a mind unburdened can be an enviable concept. However, when I am truly happy and contented in any given day I prefer to have the benefit of knowing and understanding why that is. True appreciate comes from understanding.
I hope you don’t give up your desire to write anytime soon. It would be a grand shame.
* Appreciation – bloody phone, haha!
You must be Northern you use ‘grand’ a favorite word of mine in that context (good on you). You’re right about ignorance, I envy an unburdened mind but it’s like trying to inhabit something you’ll never be. Agreed .. the benefit of knowing has value, truthfully if we were all ignorant as in some ways we are, it would only worsen things. Ignorance has its share of blame too. I would agree in theory true appreciation can only exist in understanding. I think with this I was trying out the idea of being something quite different, as well as expressing an exhaustion with carrying the awareness of things and how it may contribute to sadness. Sometimes I try to be things I’m not in order to understand them better or shine a light on a set of emotions that beg us to consider the usual norms. So many vaunt knowledge and I think I was saying, there is a downside, which when I say it like that, is obvious, but I hoped in the poem it showed more of the scape of it. Anyway eitherway, I appreciate you reading and your comment very much. Thank you my Northern friend.
I agree. There are many advantages to having a mind that dwells in thought but there are certainly downsides too, like you mentioned.
You are close. I have the blood of the Scots running through my veins but I am a Midlander, born and raised. I just love using the word ‘grand’, haha! And you’re welcome.
Nowt wrong with a Midlander … near Norwich? I went to Uni there. Good blood the Scots, never fully conquered, I like that … Welsh are pretty awesome too. Don’t quit using those words. On a funny note, didn’t know Kit Harrington who plays Jon Snow on Game of Thrones was not from the North, when I heard him interviewed – with a plummy school boy accent I was horrified, suddenly EVERYTHING changed and not for the better! Funny about accents, always felt a kinship with the North and then watching Game of Thrones, the author sort of creates that too. I didn’t think the show nearly as good as the books though, that’s where the meat is.
Dave, did I ever mention I love your responses? This especially, I didn’t know this poem and I have never liked Ted but this is great! Thanks for turning me to this poem, I really hadn’t read it. Excellent.
You know me frightening well … I don’t say this in jest it’s true
X
Hundreds of book pages can fill a mind and offer perspectives in a way that TV shows aren’t always able to. The show is brilliant but it wouldn’t be anything without the source material.
To answer your question, I’m from the West Midlands, near Wolverhampton. I’ve often fancied a trip to Anglia though, maybe someday.
What did you study at university?
East Anglia is really pretty I liked being there (I froze to death though). That time I was just studying my undergraduate stuff it wasn’t my higher level – so I did Psych and Lit. Boring. I wanted to do Science but I’m not good enough at it. You’re right, although I do love TV too but for more of a ‘fix’ kind of feeling. A book stays with you longer most definitely. A good show though that really does commend itself on screen is The American’s reminds me of the cold-war stuff when I was a kid. Agreed, the show is fun but the books are much better I didn’t like book five so much though and I’d be interestd to know what George M does with book six since there is so much diverging from the books in the film (I think they made the right call it didn’t make sense to do it the way he had in mostly book five) I have never been to Wolverhampton though of course I can say it in a midlands accent I love the name it’s so dramatic.
Love this one. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. I struggle with this concept too. But there is no need, we are aware, therefore you must keep writing! How else can we manage awareness? Sharing the sensitivity, to both the good and the bad, or else we go mad(der)? ❤
Thank you for saying I should keep writing. I really needed to hear that. Sister you always say the right thing but this was like reading my mind. I appreciate YOU. Thank you. I totally agree w/u and thank you for your words.
This makes me happy! I appreciate you too ❤