A Song Of Myself

Ok, so I'm on a bit of a Walt Whitman binge right now. I've been particularly taken with "A Song Of Myself" - a piece broken into no less than 52 parts, but each one singular and beautiful. It is said that this is supposed to represent every week of the year. Do read it if you get a chance, it is wonderful poetry. Lengthy, but worth it.

This competition is simple- choose one of the following 10 quotes taken from Whitman's epic poem, and write a poem inspired by the quote.

The Quotes

1. I harbour for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, nature without check with original energy.

2. Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? Have you reckon'd the Earth much?

3. Lacks one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen.

4. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

5. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, and to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

6. The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom

7. At the cider-mill tasting the streets of the brown mash, sucking the juice through a straw, at apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find

8. I have said that the soul is not more than the body

9. Writing and talk do not prove me

10. I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

The Rules

* New writes only please
* Please title your work.
* Please indicate which number quote you chose.
* Please check spelling
* No collabs
* Two entries max.

Enjoy!

4. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.




URN

As ashes drift by overhead
From chimney stack a mile away,
I slowly walk the parapet
That circles marker, stone & grave.

There are no tears belong to me
With all my grief contained within
When soon the coming rain will be.

For now I hold here in my hands
An urn of cradled numb entombed
As empty, it, as are my sins,
Of phantom ache of phantom womb.

A mounting pall makes all things plain
And gives complexion to the dead
Who pace among the dates & names
To find a mother for my son.

While stillborn thunder's lightning rod
Of blinding flash that now ordains
The sudden pitch of driving rains.

It is for me while lain among
The faery buds & feathered grass
As natural for an urn to spend
Of time eternal till I pass.

Thank you for your entry :)

10. I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

. Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? Have you reckon'd the Earth much?





Land


Sand grains slip
through
open fingers, calling
to take to the paths of
those already, dust;

Kerouac sold his
road
and I purchased
it with the past, key
now in my hand.

Dirt and
asphalt await
to be trod once more, ribbons
winding into sunsets
and cool
night shadows.

What awaits nerve
endings
when free to
touch the Earth
in a million places?

Ah, the land absorbs
into my soul, deeding
acres to the imagination
and restlessness to
the heart.

6. The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom

Relief

Longing for freedom
Dark existence
Prison of fear
Hope's resistance

Longing for occasion
Conquer things past
Release of suffering
So long it must last

Escape the loathsome
Dissolve the scars
Elude the torment
And all that mars

Find deliverance
From that which tames
Ease the pain
Until none remains

Avoid the betrayal
Contempt for life
Find a peace
Not plagued by strife

Expose the demons
Eliminate their taunts
Cut to escape
All that haunts

Quote #6, “The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom”


Deceased Lay

“On the floor the deceased lay
bedroom where stranger fell
before this happened words were shared
turn back the clock’s questing hands”

I lay beside the near stranger
In the darkest of the night
speaking words for him to hear
as death crept close in between
I hoped to stay his seeking hand
in a grip that could prevent
encroachment of the hooded one
eager to take what all will give.

"It is not your time my new friend
this beast will take you in the end
but it not need be this very day
please turn from him, this I pray"

In their eyes I saw the fear
the dread of living on the edge
when all of life is too much
the good in things far out weighed
what could I say to save this soul?
bid Reaper go on this chill night
that others wait for his call
not this stranger shivering in my arms.

"Hold on my friend, please frustrate
the leap to realms beyond this place
I know they call with deepest balm
this siren call beyond the veil"

I feared my words were hollow shells
cast into the deepest well
lost from sight as gloom progressed
surrounding us with ill intent
once more I rallied forth
not content to say no more
a last proclaim I would extoll
to break the curse taking hold.

"You are loved above all else
by God above and all your friends
turn back the end, this doom you seek
so you and I will meet the dawn"

I'll tell you this in last stanza
I don't know if I was heard
for in that moment the stranger fell
taken down by his own gun
I did not know him very well
but he and I were the same
the end took him as it did me
I was no more by the same shell.

“Now you know I am the voice
of the stranger and the calm
bloody suicide on bedroom floor
I wish to God that I had heard”

Thank you so much to all for your wonderful entries into this competition. I look forward to judging this one so much!

There's still time for a few more entries before the deadline. Inviting one and all

10."I have no mockings or arguments, I

A THOUSAND ACRES

Even this seagull over land against a grey sky  
This cigarette in my hand is beautiful  
For you made this world for me  
This nettled path  
This wording don't go there  
And other signs  
The muddy pools in the tractor tracks  
The manure on the air  
The wind that holds me back  
Till the way became the world    
And the world the way  
   
The dark on light    
On a notepad of my dreams  
For all is just as it is  
And nothing is as it seems  
   
For this is it  
With no heaven to escape to  
Shall I dream your dreams here  
And mould a paradise from manure and mud  
And swallow the air you exhale  
Sculpted in the light of my sight  
Pooling your sweat in my navel
Seeking you in the space between the stars  
   
But most of all    
   
Be happy here  
Another thing  
Among a thousand acres you hold dear





*2

Glow as You Row
On rocks made of broken dreams;
And bars of want for ore;
Lies my world!
I built my temple of contradictions;
Camped deep in my core;
Right where monks are clothed with bitterness!
A place where mere coincidence isn't given a bow and arrow;
A place where relativity is placed next to appreciated qualities;
Where pilgrims offer sweet nothings with each bow
;Even though there isn't any specter;
Where it isn't plagued with cold or snow;
And where each can contemplate with sense;
A place where to feel good means to let go;
So as to let the heart reside where it wishes.
Only there can I feel serenity this deep!
I've finally figured my lines.
Soon I'll be leaving to see what destiny has to bestow;
And on stepping stones that I've chose;
I shall learn when to step down and when to draw!
For snow is deemed fragile even at a glance;
If you make the right blow.
Sounds like a trance I know but am willing to take a chance;
For one shall glow if he/she perseveres as they row.
Lay back if you will, am going ahead!

(Lacks one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen.)


                   blue abstract


her heart was a raw canvas, & the squadron of her lovers
painted their own furious shades of blue.
it was adorned with the color of hurt.

if her portrait had been done by Odilon Redon, she’d be
surrounded by flowers, red for passion, yellow for serenity,
in brown vases, for the charred walls of her abandonment.

her music is orchestral melancholy
female vocalists singing sad songs
tristesse de la lune
(sorrow of the moon)

when she’s lonely enough, she follows me to a barren room.
this thing I do to her in the dark, it’s a little like love.
her eyes are closed, & she won’t remember my face.

she ran so fast, she left herself behind
she passed the sun till it refused to shine
a work of art subverts the model by degrees
it’s never real  –  it’s what the artist sees

a far-away star will fall to the rue outside our window;
by its light I will paint her, & she will be nude.
but it will remain unfinished
and signed artist unknown…