Sometimes you just have to write and the poem becomes…calling for itself from the void dark matter.
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Author: Makar
Stephen Sutherlin is a designer, poet and musician. He writes poetry about life in the southwest and enjoys metrical lyricism.
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Psychí (1)
Blue-eyed Lovely Lady long Psychic connection
Dancing to the Blues Filial bondings going
little introductions led Well beyond the forms
to Feeling the of LOVE that
same groove came before
turned into turning 2
a life- to 1
Due to the nature of responsive web pages, the mobile version of this poem loses it’s intended shape. For readability, here are the stanzas in order:
Blue-eyed Lovely Lady
Dancing to the Blues
little introductions led
to Feeling the
same groove
turned into
a life-
long Psychic connection
Filial bondings going
Well beyond the forms
of LOVE that
came before
turning 2
to 1
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Philos (1)
Words
No need
We too can
Sit so silently
Contemplative
No need for words
We two commun-icate
Hundreds stories common
Psychic in the way we need not
say a single thing. Understanding that
not even time matters between spaces long
between our Sharings. Quantum entanglement
perhaps. No matter, “I am glad you are here.”
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Agape (1)
Tending
Tender care
For another being.
Identifying that your
Presence and attention
Deliver more than what was
Possible without your intervention.
God to creation, gardener to garden.
Husband to family, Mother to children.
Soldier to country, Poet to human being.
I did not set out to write this poem. (Agape 1) It fell into place around my contemplation of the love poem. There are a couple ideas at play. Caregiver. These are garden psalms being literally written in my garden, so the overseer is primary thematically. “The sum is greater than its separate parts.”
I like Gertrude Stein’s use and intent of “human being”(i) to say it as an active sentence in present tense. It has an essence of mindfulness, being, present in the moment; caught in the act of being human. The poet is placed as a juxtaposition, a dichotomy to the soldier, who stands out against the other archetypes being a destroyer while at the same time being the protector.
The poet as a meaningful archetype is also anchored here as the beginning of an argument for Plato “A Defense for Ars Poetica”.
Questions – why should I inject the poet here? Is there any real sacrifice that the poet makes to care for culture? Does the dead art of poetry deserve a place at the table with these other archetypes?
Wouldn’t the poem be better without the last line?
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Eros
A
need
never
fulfilled
DESIRE
WANT you
NEED you
will say
ANYTHING
DO
ANYTHING
TO
have YOU
have your
Flesh of
My Flesh
becoming
one rhythm
Blood fills
every
corpuscle
You take
Me make
me part
ONE
of two
until
I have
Nothing
at all
except
YOU
My father used to preach a sermon every year about Love. From an early age, I understood that love (like myriad words for ICE in Inuit) has many words and many subtle meanings. The sermon covered and explored the Greek words, plural, for love. Eros – Erotic, sexual love. Philos – Friendship, brotherly love. Agape – Self-sacrificial love. His conclusion was that Christ became the ultimate expression of Human Love by sacrificing his Human Being. The love of a parent to a child, believer and God.
I have added Psychí. Psyche, wife to Eros and goddess of the Soul. My granny used to say that her and my papaw believed they had a psychic connection and that they would try to see if they could connect their thoughts while he was away at work. Building on this idea, I am exploring a transcendental love of the married. Beyond finishing each other’s sentences, life-long couples can explore and develop a quantum entanglement that is connected beyond the other forms of love. This life energy that the two share leads to wordless exchanges and un-spoken understandings.
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Dead Horse
The Skull
from The Mountains
Bullet Hole
between the eyes
Whole body
puzzle of bones
Bone broken
on winter’s pass
Burden taken
under human foot
Friend fallen
Last farewell
Friends taken
to the woods
Too early
for human foot
Skull‘s burden
Taken home
To rest
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I was a child
My early poems were childish.
Then again I was a child.