Topic: skeptical about poetry... about skepticism

[Starnadohunter]

Hi everybody! I am new here, so what better way to break the ice than to share a poem? 

I realise that I am opening myself up to all sorts of criticism, but hey, who cares? Bring it on!

I wrote this a while ago but have recently added some lines for clarity and rhythm.

It is open to interpretation, but I did have a set idea in mind when I wrote it.

It currently has no title. Also, please feel free to add your own poetry to this thread, or suggest a thread where mine might sit more happily.

Please feel free to comment. Thanks for reading!

Rob :-) (Starnadohunter)


There is a great building
Atop a great hill
No person has walked there
Yet all live there still
Stacked, overflowing
With thoughts
And intentions
Our dreams and discoveries
The endless dimensions

In the grey courtyard
A great tree grows
spreading its branches
The sap cracks and flows
With all that is known
Both now and before
A living reflection
Of knowledge and lore

Yet

Lies hang
like rotting fruits
From slender threads of truth
In the great tree of knowing

(Truth, when glimpsed, that glistens and glimmers and fixes the eye,
and mesmerises,
casting warm light on the lies around it
so that all seems truth)

Hanging with painted vessels,
Cracked, seeping acid,
That drip the blinding corrosion
Of faith beyond reason

So

Blinded we are
To the ends of our ways
By the lies that bring comfort
And entrap our weak gaze
A thousand ghosts of truth long corrupted

And we lie and lay drunk on the fruits’ putrefaction
Vile juice stains our lips and our words and our kisses
And we think ourselves clever, oh how clever are we!
And see not the dead and the dying

Yet still the tree flourishes, tended with care
By the careful, the brave, the people who dare
To question the liars, the haters of change
The slightly deranged
who try to restrain
The masses
with lies of impossible places
A dream, strangely human, to see long-gone faces

So hard to resist, the promise of beauty!

The truth is far stranger, the true path is lonely
though the earth ‘neath the tree
Be fertile and rich
The fools dig their trenches, a foul stinking ditch
In the courtyard of flowers
The blooms of great thoughts
The boughs of the hours

In search of a miracle
They see not the truth
But that which is real
Holds more beauty
Than a thousand lies

She weeps when we tie her in knots of brute language
For her subtlety is endless and our minds far too small
So we hold ever tighter to the lies that surround us
The scratching of fools on the great library wall

[Starnadohunter]

Apparently I am alone in the Venn diagram intersect between 'skeptical' and 'likes poetry with flowery metaphors'.
Probably not the best way to start contributing to the forum.
I shall comment on a few other threads that interest me. Maybe that will stimulate some response.
BTW, I really love the show. I may use semi-spiritual imagery but I am a skeptic, honest.
I felt that the poem had some relation to the dangers of logical fallacies and 'faith beyond reason' so maybe you guys were the best audience for it.
Oh well...

[Frank]

You're not alone. 

I'm quite adrift in my ken and insight for poetry, but nevertheless: I really enjoyed it. The only criticism I have, and it's a simple word choice that's actually vague and not *really* a criticism, is the use of 'haters'. It kinda pulled me out of the rhythm of it, not because it didn't fit, but because it's quite... conspicuously drole compared to the rest of the poem which is more elaborate, more flowery. Difficult to articulate.

Anyhow, enjoyed this little (err, actually quite big!) piece. I'm dipping my toes tepidly into Fry's The Ode Less Travelled over the last few months, I expect my excursions and exercises from the book'll end up taking a somewhat sceptical or scientific bent. Decidedly enjoyable and, in terms of imagery, exceedingly poignant; I liked it.

[arthwollipot]

Personally I've never been able to appreciate poetry, especially in written form. But I know plenty of people who do, and lots of people who are poets themselves, so I encourage you to keep doing what you're doing.

[dylanharris]

Starnadohunter, you're not the only inhabitant of that venn intersection. Here's something I wrote a few years ago:


The Mere Of Ice

The morning’s walk repair
is stone–in–shoe disturbed
at the cool wind glade:

contrast light
rush leaves
flash sun.

The rain worn paper notice,
on the silver slatter–down kiosk
commands us to walk the mere of ice,

blind white
blotch pools
slow earth.

But I know it will fail my doubt;
I take the grass and boulder soaring path
walking up the two bend valley,

watching down
on faith belief
crash–drown.

[Starnadohunter]

@Frank - thanks for  the feedback! I agree with you about 'haters', if the truth be told, but that section kinda flowed out of me so quickly I was reluctant to change it.
I have a few alternatives in mind... the word 'haters' is quite vitriolic and polarising. It has a strong effect on the words around it. The rhythmic structure suffers as a result.
I also don't think that hatred of change is the only issue - it is more a type of resistance, a blindness to evidence, that frustrates me, but I recognise the cultural pressures that keep many from 'the truth'. I don't want to be part of a war on faith or faiths: I feel that art, music and poetry are gentle ways of helping others to see my point of view. I can, however, be quite militant in my defence of skepticism and critical thinking.
In terms of structure and rhythm, there are a lot of 'greats' and two 'thousands'. I did this on purpose for a folk-song feel, or to sound a little liturgical, but I find that they jar slightly. At some point you have to stop changing things and accept it as it is. Not yet though.
I am glad my poetry moved you. TBH, I was quite moved while writing it.
I shall check out Fry's book.
Thanks again!
Rob

[Starnadohunter]

@dylanharris -
Spare prose
flash reveals
vibrant images
slowly precipitating
depth and meaning
(A review in prose: seemed like a good idea at the time)
I really liked this. It is less obvious than mine: this is a Good Thing.
My first reading of your poem was like a slideshow: vivid scenes, one after the other. Really great imagery. Gave me goose-bumps. When I read it again, the metaphorical content was more apparent.
Good work, well done.
Rob

[dylanharris]

Goosebumps? Wow, that's great praise indeed! Thank you very much. :-)