Nothing is that Serious

Brilliant!

ah, yes......

dog/god, god/dog

eye love it

sounds about right, about being
alone, I mean...

I never piss on graves when
there's anyone else around...

Such an excellent poem! I'm looking forward to seeing what else you write.

i had to laugh at the play on words 'cocked his leg'... if it can be pissed on it can't be that serious... there is a cemetery in buenos aires that belongs to the rich families. plots are only something like six feet by six feet, so they grow tall. it's like a city of the dead. no stray dogs there for pissing. but its full of stray cats!

 if it can be pissed on it can't be that serious...

EXACTly. We take ourselves WAY to seriously at times rather than just laugh and have fun.

Ah, the existential nightmare. The universe does have a heartbreaking way of showing us our importance. "The lone and level sands stretch out forever," or something to that effect. It appears that you had the picture before you penned the piece and that it inspired you, and I can see why. The dog is almost looking at you as if to see what you think of the situation, and of course the play on God makes even more of a profound statement when viewed like that. Is this what you intended. I know it's probly been a while since you've revisited this piece, yet I am curious.
Excellent write. Thank you

Thank you. I actually saw it happen in a cemetery I was  
photographing. I sat down to review the images; the dog  
caught my eye and I followed him, thinking he was seeking  
his master, or something as important as the birth certificate  
of God. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard. However,  
it reminded me (for some reason) of Akin and Bonaventure  
Cemetery. The energy, I believe.

Ahhh, Ahavati, luv ~ :-*

How divinely clever you are!

And wise...

Let's celebrate impermanence and interconnectedness with a martini, shall we, luv? ;-*

Lemon Drop will do just fine. Merci beaucoup.

I can see we're going to get along just fine.

Ha. Bathroom poetry.

so much thought provoking truth
with each verse chiseling away
leading to its inevitable climax:

"sniffing out with such diligence you
would swear it was seeking the birth
certificate of God, until it cocks its leg
and pisses on the concrete instead. "

a profound message
for those mired in misery..
..

i enjoyed this vibe immensely
Ahavati

I am always pleasantly surprised when the Universe
pulls one out of the archives through a fellow poet, Naajir.
It's typically one I need to read again.

Thank you for braving the past and your kindness.

Where you say, In the end we all become graves. Reminds me of my poem, The Husk Grave.

The second stanza paints such a forlorn picture. Nature overgrows our resting place and its significance is soon lost.

Then you state as much in the third stanza. I love where you say, a hovel of chiseled stone. Without the significance of remembrance, that is what it is rendered.

This is a stark composition, but beautifully rendered. Namaste.

Thank you, Daniel. I appreciate your braving the archives
and your observations. Seeing my work through the eyes
of others reveals the connections between us all.

Nothing short of spectacular reading. ❤📝

How I wish I would have discovered your poetry earlier. 🌠💖🌌

💜💏💋

Ditto! Amazing we skated around each other for two years before interacting! <3

One of your very best works Ahvanti (If not THE BEST). I felt this one.


hugs,
buddhakitty.

Thanks, Kitts ( and to whoever resurrected this one ).  

xo

I adore this poem!

There really is little room for improvement as far as I am concerned.

However, since the theme is self explanatory from the title onward, I wanted to see what else couId be manifested that would reinforce the notion that "nothing is that serious". I think nothing does that better than the playfullness of rhyming which gives it a more light hearted tone.

Everything is suggestion of course, not to be taken too seriously, but instead is meant as example to inspire further revision.

Such an organic rhythm throughout the First Stanza! And it already has  rhyming.

"In the end we all become graves,
our differences united by the same
neglect of weeds and immense
necropolis whose swathed residents
observe from quiet encasements."

However, I feel "the same" doesn't add anything that "united" doesn't already convey so I removed such. I transposed a few words. The word "of" is very passive when beginning lines, so I removed it and made "neglect" of the weeds past tense. "and" was switched to "across" for s-consonance with "necropolis" and "swathed" and a-assonance likewise with "swathed". "our" changed to "with" for w-alliteration with "we" and "weeds". "a" inserted before "necroplis" simply so it doesn't read too choppy and helps with rhythm.

"In the end we all become graves
with differences united by neglected
weeds across a necropolis immense
whose swathed residents observe
from encasements quiet"

"Beyond our mounds will spread
giant limbs of balboa, tapping
like trapped hangers behind closet
doors casting macabre shadows
across plastic flowers and dirt."

I think this would read better rearranged. I added "floors" to give it a momentum boost with rhyme. I switched "and" to "upon". I relocated and shifted the tense of "tapping" to a playful "tap-tap-tap" in the present tense. I reduced "mounds" to "mound" in order the set up a rhyme in Stanza Three. The dreaded "like" converted to "as if". "across" converted to "over" which has o-assonance to play along with "shadows" and "balboa".  "closet" hopefully rhymes better with "quiet" in the previous stanza.

"Trapped as if hangers behind closet
doors casting macabre shadows
over flowers plastic upon dirt floors
giant limbs of balboa tap-tap-tap
spread beyond each mound"

"Visitors and memories are decimated
by time until all that remains
is a hovel of chiseled stone.
History becomes an illusion
of mystery, like that black dog,"

A bit of reduction all around to speed up the pace. "bone" added for rhyme momentum and to further emphasize the concept of over-valued. Question mark inserted to engage readers' thought processes. "hound" utilized to rhyme with "mound" earlier. Utilization of semicolon and emdash to help rhyme "mystery" with "history" while removing "of" and "like".

"Visitors, memories decimated
by time until all that remains?
Bone in hovels of chiseled stone
History become illusion; mystery-
same as that wandering black hound"

"there -- just beyond Aiken's bench,
sniffing out with such diligence you
would swear it was seeking the birth
certificate of God, until it cocks its leg
and pisses on the concrete instead."

There are three instances of "it" that can be reduced to one.  "you" bumped to the next line so that "diligence" better rhymes with "bench". "instead" wasn't nedessary as "you would swear" is an indicator that something alternative is going to take place. "there" and "swear" and "certificate" and "it" are already existing rhymes we want to maintain.

"there -- just beyond Aiken's bench
sniffing out with such diligence
you would swear it was seeking
God's birth certificate, until-
cocking a leg, pisses concrete"

Now, altogether -

In the end we all become graves
with differences united by neglected
weeds across a necropolis immense
whose swathed residents observe
from encasements quiet

Trapped as if hangers behind closet
doors casting macabre shadows
over flowers plastic upon dirt floors
giant limbs of balboa tap-tap-tap
spread beyond each mound

Visitors, memories decimated
by time until all that remains?
Bone in hovels of chiseled stone
History become illusion; mystery-
same as that wandering black hound

there -- just beyond Aiken's bench
sniffing out with such diligence
you would swear it was seeking
God's birth certificate, until-
cocking a leg, pisses concrete

Forgive me, Ahavati, for i have sinned.... many Engrish mistakes... and have decimated a perfectly geriatric poem.

I'm so confused. . .

That's a side effect of bad humor, then.... mine, i mean.

I just was trying to do a roast. I think i burned myself!

Oh that! No, that was funny ( I think ).  I'm a bit backed up and haven't gotten to respond yet.  Don't worry about it.

💖

I thought this was humorous, somehow, I looked up the story of Aikens bench, what a cool story that is.  I understand the ending after reading it, I think, its true to the title..

Thank you, PR.  That's a great cemetery, btw. If you're ever in the area definitely stop in!

I decided I’d have a look at your first poem here and holy moly, it’s a belter. It makes me think of November Graveyard by Sylvia Plath, one of my favourite poems. The vulgarity at the end caps it perfectly.

Thank you for braving the archives, Jack. xo

This made me feel pretty good actually.. el oh el... thanks a bunch.

LOL! This one typically does make readers chuckle! Who can't feel good when chuckling! True story too! Thank you, LJ! xo