Kailashana

Jan 31, 2010 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

do not astound me with my own perfection

the clock winds--
it is a somber hole to be filled
for some,
for others life is too long,
its immensity an ivory tusk
carried into an ancient boneyard
where
memories are left behind
and the river?
what can be
said about the river except
that it flows, knots and bouquets
of chrysolite empty into the
sea and the sea calls
into the sunrise

the earth is a gallery, pieces of art
on exhibition,
destiny and the sky inhale and exhale ashes,
like children we all fall down,
laughing

Spring comes on forever and the winter
of our hopelessness lies asleep
in dreams of perfection,
tender babies we hold in our hands
like burnt offerings.

— Kailashana, Jan 31, 2010

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Critiques

Seren

16 years 4 months ago

Bow~~ … this hits in the

Bow~~ ... this hits in the solar plexus and travels all the way to the core ... love and hugs Jayne-Chloe x x x

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

No need to bow, Lady Jayne,

No need to bow, Lady Jayne, just keep on writing those words that are the heart of us. Love, Mum "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

Orphani

16 years 4 months ago

Anna I feel you here in this

Anna I feel you here in this powerful work of art.This is certainly an evocative reading experience.My crits are this: Would your meaning be anhanced by the addition of an apostrophe in line one "clocks' to clock's And is your intention to jar the reader a bit in your final metaphor expressed in the final stanza: Spring comes on forever and the winter of our hopelessness lies asleep in dreams of perfection, (tender babies we hold in our hands like burnt offerings) burnt offering adds a stark contrast to tender babies. Elaborate on your feelings in the metaphors here please.love B

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

I corrected the first line,

I corrected the first line, Barry. As for the last stanza, I can only say nothing lasts forever, my love. ~A "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

Nordic cloud

16 years 4 months ago

"its immensity an ivory tusk carried into an ancient boneyard"

Oh so many scintillating things in this and some bit I absolutely love:- Time's dear loving elephant:-"its immensity an ivory tusk ..............................................carried into an ancient boneyard" "said about the river except that it flows, knots and bouquets"............I see the rivers of India strewn with flowers-sudden change after this! " the earth is a gallery, pieces of art on exhibition," ..............you KNOW this would appeal to me! Beautiful, just beautiful. In this I detect a note of bitterness at this world, the last verse stating just that? As usual a gallery of the art of Anna in an always specail manner displayed. Love from your sister Anskie bird

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

Pictures at an Exhibition is

Pictures at an Exhibition is one of my favourites. And isn't life all about what we see hear feel touch taste smell? Seize the day, I say! Love, Anna from O hi O "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

Nordic cloud

16 years 4 months ago

You mean the Mussorksky

You mean the Mussorksky music, I can hear it in my mind quite a special piece, I too enjoy that. One could write a whole series of poems using its intonations and colours he is a colourist indeed. Love your sister Ann.

hugo la rosa

16 years 4 months ago

Dear Kailashana:

My respects and my love for this poem that summs up the whole of life. I see no imperfection in the images or the words. It's clearly another gem from your soul. I thank you for the hopeful notes. We have really come to this earth to learn lo laugh like babies, and see if we can stop the burnings of selfishness. What is valuable, as you hint it marvelously, is the experience and the wisdom left as seeds in the soul's field. What a beautiful and amazing poem! Sincerely, Hugo

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

Thank you for understanding,

Thank you for understanding, Hugo. Crazy wisdom indeed! ~A "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

xena465

16 years 4 months ago

Like orphani...

when I read the last stanza I was confused, but your explination hit it on the nail for me to understand it. I really love this amazing poem. Well written. sincerely Rosina xena465

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

Thank you for your comment,

Thank you for your comment, Rosina. Your eyes look like my ex's (soft, green and sad) Are you a Pisces? Hugs, Anna "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

“What we do for ourselves

"What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

Victorclaude

16 years 4 months ago

Kailashana,

"sea and the sea calls into the sunrise" These lines put the hook in like the sea itself, of all things on Earth oceans are my longing to be near or on. For now, I am a deep-water sailor landlocked in Tennessee. "the clock winds– it is a somber hole to be filled for some, for others life is too long," I know many of both, and they vacillate between the two. This may very well be one of life's greatest dichotomies. You described it well. "tender babies we hold in our hands like burnt offerings." I have often wondered why a mother would send her sons and now daughters to brazen wars after nourishing them along the way to adulthood. These lines made me consider this thought, and it is one that I cannot reconcile in my mind. Very fine piece of writing. Victor

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

Rumi:Silence is an ocean.

Rumi: Silence is an ocean. Speech is a river. When the ocean is searching for you, don't walk into the language-river. Listen to the ocean, and bring your talky business to an end Traditional words are just babbling in that presence, and babbling is a substitute for sight.

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

Dearest Victor,I need to

Dearest Victor, I need to comment on your last thoughts: In the late 70's I went around my neighborhood, gathering petitions for nuclear disarmament with my small children in tow; when I approached my next door neighbor, she wouldn't sign; as I knew her best (she was a friend of a friend)I asked her why, I'd listen. I reminded her that sooner or later her daughter would be part of the military war machine. She unhesitatingly answered, she had no problem sending either child off. (She had come from Pinochet's Chile.) I thanked her for her imput and realized that as long as mothers send off their sons/daughters to the battlefield, peace really had no chance. Fast forward almost 30 years. I met a man, a member of my Middle East Peace Forum who survived 6 months of Pinochet's torture. He was unhesitatingly pro-peace, anti-violence, and reconciliation. I often think of both of them. I don't know about her or her children and he returned to Chile, retiring to his horses and women's causes for non violence. ~Anna