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poetry

Looking up

You know those moments
that change your life;
(conversational.)

Sometimes it’s like
losing someone you never
told often enough that
you loved; or perhaps
simply catching a crack in the
pavement with your heel.
Both make you stumble
and fall, try to save your soul,
but they’re not all like that.

Some are passed exams you
were sure you had failed,
childbirth without pain,
as joy anesthetizes you;
or walking through the woods
on a still day as the onus
of summer lightens the load.

Yet others are once fierce flames,
long cold suns spinning in eternal need,
their death composed in aeons,
with roots that go deeper
than spades can cut.

And so what of our species?
Forging sorrows in the raw clay,
the stink of cordite still strong
in neolithic nostrils;
swinging between extremes
as the little blue dot is raped
for yet more pointless gain.
Whilst high above, a multitude
of suns become newborn.

8 replies on “Looking up”

“And so what of our species?
Forging sorrows in the raw clay,”

Douglas,

You have asked the right question.

“And so what of our species?
Forging sorrows in the raw clay,”

and you show us despair:

“as the little blue dot is raped
for yet more pointless gain”.

Best of all, you show us hope that reaches
beyond what we know.

“Whilst high above, a multitude
of suns become newborn.”

To me this poem is both a wake-up call
and an affirmation of faith in the universe.

You illuminate the progression that is taking place this very day.

So good to read your work!

Sarah

Liked by 1 person

Hi Douglaus

And so what of our species?

As Sarah so eloquently said, “you ask the right question” and attempt to expound on the matter with a deep and fluid poem that leaves the reader much to contemplate. There are those moments when we are compelled to look up and out over the horizon, a field, a city skyline, our own lives; and wonder how do we define the human condition and the circumstances that propel or challenge it. There is not an easy answer but you so eloquently give diverse perspectives to contemplate. Thank you for this, I will be back to re-read and reflect.

My best
Wendy

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Very nice this:

“childbirth without pain,
as joy anesthetizes you;
or walking through the woods
on a still day as the onus
of summer lightens the load.”

The poor blue dot
that has given us so much.
We have treated her badly.

Enjoyed reading.
Kerri

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Douglas

I add nothing by noting that you turn here from the individual to the general, from the despairing to the ultimately hopeful … even if the hope is offered so far away.

There’s plenty memorable, “the stink of cordite still strong / in neolithic nostrils” the one that struck me most, probably because it is and likely always will be the most apposite: we are not (yet) fully conscious masters of our inventions.

A love poem.

Best wishes,

Mark.

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Douglas Hi long time no read…I return and there you are with a wonderful poem I agree with the others and their comments Thank you for this and good to read you again
Deb

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