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Far Away

I learnt the universe is infinitely huge; not
confined to the Milky Way Galaxy as I had
read in Arthur Mee’s Children’s Encyclopaedia
when I was small - there are infinite galaxies;
a stupendous discovery that left me high
with excitement

I was enthralled by Vincent Gaddis’ Invisible
Horizons and The Secret Life Of Plants early
in life, later discovering Charles Fort and his
rains of fishes and strange footprints which
just added grist to my mill

Erich von Daniken and Zechariah Sitchin
destroyed all fear of a prosaic life; the small,
Calvinist world of my youth with pain and duty
was reduced to a miniscule part of this
wonderfully exciting inter-subjective
illusion

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Tower

SAILING TO BYZANTIUM
I

THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
-- Those dying generations -- at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire

[...] Read more

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Indians love to reduce the prosaic to the mystic.

quote by Jan Morris
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Homoeoteleuton - for Danny

Greek and Roman poets prosaic

thought consonance was comic - almost, crime;

only the manic Germanic

tribes were not averse to rhyme..

poem by Michael Shepherd
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France is not poetic; she even feels, in fact, a congenital horror of poetry. Among the writers who use verse, those whom she will always prefer are the most prosaic.

quote by Charles Baudelaire
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Trails of Thoughts

my words
that hit
the page

they pass
the trail
of your
thoughts
before
marching
to the
lines

forgive me
if they have
walked the
same way

forgive me
if they

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Pragmatic Tones

What use is color
In the monochromatic
Fractures we call lives?
We siphon out an array
Of prosaic grays,
And paint a pedestrian
Portrait of the world.
We conceal our existence
Looking for reality.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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A Plan The Muses Entertained

A PLAN the Muses entertain'd

Methodically to impart

To Psyche the poetic art;
Prosaic-pure her soul remain'd.
No wondrous sounds escaped her lyre

E'en in the fairest Summer night;
But Amor came with glance of fire,--

The lesson soon was learn'd aright.

poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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To Be Not Good Enough Is Its Own Special Pain

To be not good enough is its own special pain-
To try and try again
To force oneself -
To will and will and try and try,
And still
Not have been given the gift
One would have-
To be not good enough is its own special pain-
As I in these plain prosaic words
Try to write another poem.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is A Poem Which Is Not A Poem

THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM

There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
Its heart is too much in thought.
It does not sing us to somewhere else.

There is a poem which is not a poem
Prosaic confessional flat,
Its says its single thing from the soul
And leaves the page without implication.

How many such poems have I written
As I write this one now?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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