OLD MONTREAL
For Walt....
I walked a mile away
with tears
face turned into the night
street lights abandoned
into the haze of deserted streets
Ive walked this way before
I remember
feet now pressed hard
onto cobbled pavements
along an empty road
the night stretches as long as the canal
in old Montreal
a vagrant and vagabond
aimlessly wandering
staring blankly in front of shop windows
and ancient cathedrals
made heavy with stones
eyes shut out the glare
of a cold night
prayers chill the air...
LEAVES OF GRASS
Walt Whitman
SONG TO MYSELF
5.
I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other.
Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields, And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd
stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed.
WALT WHITMAN
Last evening I watched and was profoundly moved and touched by a documentary sketching the life and works American poet, writer and essayist Walt Whitman. Often referred as the 'father' of free verse, Whitman sought to discover freedom through a rugged individuality within a physical landscape. During his life's works, Whitman attempted to break free of the pyschological and emotional boxes he felt trapped within and discovered freedom by flooding its walls with a wider understanding of spirit, emotion, and sexuality. In 1855 Whitman published a volume of 12 poems, Leaves of Grass. It was widely criticized because of his exaltation of the body and sexual love and also because of its innovation in verse form.
His poetry negotiates between perceptions of power with man struggling within the limited constructs of mind and body only to be freed by experiencing in full his sensibilities. Whitman choses to exist outside geometry to claim the Universal. His poetry speaks of a democracy through a body of language inhabiting space and time, breaking through the lines of verse, seeing beyond its limitations in order to transcend it.He claims the 'I am' away from a language of position ...abdicating the role of "master or slave" as he puts it and seeking to centre himself smack in the middle becoming neither. But humanity as he discovers is as frail as its vulnerabilties often opting to cower within its own inequalities rather than experiencing the true nature of equality. Whitman's personal search seeks to liberalise thought to embrace a wider and more conscious universe. Toward the end of his lengthy career and nearing death, he sees a greater hand other than his own lifting him into a final freedom beyond the adulation of the world and releasing the physical and mental body into a place outside the experience of 'self'. Yet his homage was to the living and to the celebration of life itself.His passionate claim saw knowldege embodied by an entire universe vast and expanding concluding that man can merely attain short glimpses into its unique beauty during a lifetime. His effort to discover the nature of truth came from a passage of human suffridge through suffering, enlightenment through love. It is a road less traveled even by today's standards but truth like the Sun whether one sees it or not still exists boldly and equally as bright......
ALL IS TRUTH ....
For Walt....
I walked a mile away
with tears
face turned into the night
street lights abandoned
into the haze of deserted streets
Ive walked this way before
I remember
feet now pressed hard
onto cobbled pavements
along an empty road
the night stretches as long as the canal
in old Montreal
a vagrant and vagabond
aimlessly wandering
staring blankly in front of shop windows
and ancient cathedrals
made heavy with stones
eyes shut out the glare
of a cold night
prayers chill the air...
LEAVES OF GRASS
Walt Whitman
SONG TO MYSELF
5.
I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other.
Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields, And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd
stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed.
WALT WHITMAN
Last evening I watched and was profoundly moved and touched by a documentary sketching the life and works American poet, writer and essayist Walt Whitman. Often referred as the 'father' of free verse, Whitman sought to discover freedom through a rugged individuality within a physical landscape. During his life's works, Whitman attempted to break free of the pyschological and emotional boxes he felt trapped within and discovered freedom by flooding its walls with a wider understanding of spirit, emotion, and sexuality. In 1855 Whitman published a volume of 12 poems, Leaves of Grass. It was widely criticized because of his exaltation of the body and sexual love and also because of its innovation in verse form.
His poetry negotiates between perceptions of power with man struggling within the limited constructs of mind and body only to be freed by experiencing in full his sensibilities. Whitman choses to exist outside geometry to claim the Universal. His poetry speaks of a democracy through a body of language inhabiting space and time, breaking through the lines of verse, seeing beyond its limitations in order to transcend it.He claims the 'I am' away from a language of position ...abdicating the role of "master or slave" as he puts it and seeking to centre himself smack in the middle becoming neither. But humanity as he discovers is as frail as its vulnerabilties often opting to cower within its own inequalities rather than experiencing the true nature of equality. Whitman's personal search seeks to liberalise thought to embrace a wider and more conscious universe. Toward the end of his lengthy career and nearing death, he sees a greater hand other than his own lifting him into a final freedom beyond the adulation of the world and releasing the physical and mental body into a place outside the experience of 'self'. Yet his homage was to the living and to the celebration of life itself.His passionate claim saw knowldege embodied by an entire universe vast and expanding concluding that man can merely attain short glimpses into its unique beauty during a lifetime. His effort to discover the nature of truth came from a passage of human suffridge through suffering, enlightenment through love. It is a road less traveled even by today's standards but truth like the Sun whether one sees it or not still exists boldly and equally as bright......
ALL IS TRUTH ....
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