The Journey

Placed on the spiral metal
Looking at the above to a single point
Hearing the crickets make their nightly music
The occasional bat cuts my sight
In the distraction I can hear the frogs nearby join the rhythm
And the clouds seek a victory over the moon
Forever trying though
I hear pain and joy from the faint night
People talking to others seeking their connection
Evil thoughts out the purity of the holy mind
A question of life held in the hand of god
And the answer in the other
The dogs next door bark at the ghostly figures returning home
To a home where the bonds grow and die
Silence is gone
Peace has gone
Freedom survives in the hearts of man
Pain in their seed with a hope of greatness
Two ducks fighting for the same fish
Yet the hungry sometimes stay hungry
Just ready to fight for the next fish
Looking over the edge of silence
Knowing its descent would scream
Drowning in a river of passive roughness
And looking at the calm shores
Nature’s fury in absolute peace
Our fever just brings us the truth of life
Our rushes and urges swell
And we ride them
We wait for the right wave and ride it with fury
And return to the calm shores
To sleep eternally with the waves that hit the shore

by Andrew Lunel

Other poems of LUNEL (5)

Comments (15)

Has anyone else noticed that PoemHunter keeps choosing the same poems for poem of the day that was used in a previous year on that same day? Notice that every single comment so far about this poem was made on 14 November, first in 2006, then 2007,2008,2009, then a gap to 2014. Aren't there any real people there at PoemHunter that can actually read poems and pick some new ones for poem of the day that haven't been used before? Or is PoemHunter just a huge bank of computers there in Paris? (You did know that PoemHunter was based in Paris, didn't you? That the website is run by a bunch of Frenchmen (or maybe French computers) trying to run a website in English, which probably accounts for their grammar mistakes on some of the pages. There! Got that of my chest!
I love this sonnet, the flow of langauge and the rich poetic images.
Finest words in beautiful sonnet and wonderful poem it is.
nice sonnet with its flow- O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire,
Oh, one potentially relevant follow-up point: poems. I believe that any feelings that arise from poems come from logically processing (aka reading and ruminating on) words, which are, after all, what poems themselves are made of, not actual, real experiences (although they may be 'about' them, and reading a poem is an actual, real experience) . Both the 'content' of poems (the underlying ideas, themes, emotions attempting to be expressed) , and the 'form' of poems (the specific words selected that may affect us on a 'visceral', or 'emotional' level) , need to be processed in our minds before we can feel the emotions the poet wishes to evoke in us.
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