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zphoenixdownz —
samsara
Published: 2005-09-26 09:06:41 +0000 UTC; Views: 2631; Favourites: 36; Downloads: 47
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Description
sam(s)araa spotted moth
flutters
around in circles
the porch light
filaments
become flames
clouded by glass
civilization ripens
the moth
a winged seed
falls
spiralling
blood red maples
spring from the crash site
of a downed helicopter
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Comments: 38
....... How did I never notice you got a daily deviation?
That is incredible.
Late congratulations!! This poem is remarkable on so many levels.
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I used the word "samsara" (in the latter sense) in a poem recently and thought of this. Still a great poem, Dave.
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I read it about five times. Each time I read it, it seemed to grow more and more beautiful.
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I wish I had some vaguely coherent response to this, but I think !inziladun covered them all about two years ago.
At any rate, this piece struck me as simply amazing.
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This is a wonderful piece of work, I do poetry as well but I cannot write in this style, good job.
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Lovely piece. Good format too because plain lines of words are boring! Also I loved the transitions from ordinary to exciting to destruction. Your transitions to one thing to another were wonderful, truly a metamorphosis. *fav*
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One of the most beautiful peices of poetry I've read on this site.
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what more can be said? brilliant cadence, rhythm, diction, and form.
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there is more to the definition of samsara, than what you have listed... samsara is not just this cycle.. but is also considered an illusion which which is also defined as "ignorance of the true self." [link] ..also.. there is no true self.
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a good point for clarification...
i've always considered the ignorance of true self a subtext of the cycle, but others may not. thanks for sharing.
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I enjoyed reading this, I think I went through it five times. I love the placement of the words - The parts about the moth are written all around the place, like it was actually falling down and crashing - but trying to stay up so it was going around in circles... idk - i may be ranting. But I liked it. Kudos
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thank you. i'm glad you liked the poem. i did enjoy seeing how the words would lay on the page and how they could be read in different ways.
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This is truly beautiful and inspiring. The emotions that come out of this are soft and sweet like the fire but start to burn brighter by the end. I can see this poem being read in front of firelight, quietly, so quiet that you have to strain to listen, and every word is worth it.
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I am pleasantly reminded of The Ring. This piece is both lovely and creepy, all in one, and it makes me somewhat nostalgic to read it. Lovely work, keep it up!
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Delicately written. I wonder how you discovered the sam(s)ara words, as neither is common to English. Haikus strewn throughout, ne! The final three lines would have deserved a DD all on their own.
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samsara i knew from reading siddhartha... samara was a word i caught while reading a bit about "helicopter seeds" - as i call them.
thank you very much for the comment and the +fav.
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awesome work!, It seems to me as though every word, every thought, every imagination you give to us, was neverending story of life told so pure and exact.
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For me, the 'winged seed' is a wonderful bridge between the falling moth, the sprouting maples and the helicopter.
The helicopter and the moth make interesting siblings too, both being 'ripened' by civilization.
This is a quite remarkable work. I too shall be passing it on.
:~)
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Thank you very much. Your interest and support are greatly appreciated.
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The staggered viscosity of this style, among other things, reminds me of Saul William's stuff.
Mmm, brevity par excellence. Quite a good read; thanks for sharing.
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yeah. this is great. i'm too hungover-like to tell you anything otherwise. good job.
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Wait, why the fuck do you need me to comment on this. You got an essay back off *inziladun . Selfish prick. Anyway. Yes, what he/she said, and also a big ups once again to your spacing, which I could never hope to emulate. You fuck.
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Oh how wonderful. Can't say much more than inzi did up there, I'll just humbly state that you are wicked with imagery and move on.
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about time this got a dd... conga rats!
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this is splendid. splendid splendid!
there is such a sense of correlation here that only dawns on the reader after a few reads and some background consideration, like listening to static and recognising patterns. very haiku-esque, in that sense and in terms of the imagery in general. (warning: overanalysis may ensue)
what's really impressive about this is that there's this tri-fold correlation going on which really constructs the whole piece without appearing as either the frame or the centre: a samara seed's falling, twirling motion; a moth's fluttering, also as it falls (l. 11, assuming the word "sam(s)ara" is the title); a helicopter's blades spinning, but impotently/retrospectively because it has crashed - they are all essentially the same thing. and it's as though there's a metamorphosis happening not in the events themselves but in their observations.. the porchlight (serene, quaint) becomes a flame, and the transition, though subtle, is of sudden destruction: but I think what the piece means to say is that this destruction or turmoil or change is occurring all the time, every second, and whatever chronology appears is arbitrary and a human element outside of the state of existence/decay itself (aka samsara), needed in order to make it rational. the porchlight doesn't "become" flames as such, it is them all the time - and yet all of this, the entire poem, is only symbolism and imagery. as though there's no other way of communicating what's going on.
and the lines "civilization ripens / the moth / a winged seed / falls / spiralling" are interestingly but minimally dual. on one hand the concept that comes to mind upon linking the 'ripening' or changing of civilization and something as small as a moth (contrast!) is the 'butterfly effect', of miniscule things eventing in gigantic fluctuations - which makes the moth 'falling' a conceptually threatening and tragic thing, like the fall of an empire or of existence itself. but on the other hand, the moth is also likened to a seed; now if a seed falls (to the earth), it is fulfilling its meaning: it seeks out earth and begins to grow, the start of life. at the same time, the 'spiralling' becomes on one hand cataclysmically horrifying (the [slow] descent to doom) but on the other something simply, purely beautiful - aesthetic. whether creation and destruction are being juxtaposed, or if destruction is being characterised as an act of creation (Cf. Fifth Element: "This Life you so nobly serve comes from death destruction and chaos."), the duality is simply and openly visible - and it strikes a chord.
the final three lines could seriously be a very decent haiku; but in terms of the rest of the poem, it reiterates the contradiction beautifully. maples springing = life blossoming from destruction, positive; blood = connected to injury/pain, negative (but positive in some sense). and at the same time we witness the last morph of this falling symbol: moth, seed, helicopter. ending on a modern image like that makes the poem even more addressing.
if this was off base or tedious, apologies. but really it's only the verbalisation of these thoughts that may seem complex or incoherent - the thoughts themselves, as witnessed first hand from the poem itself, are not. splendidly done.
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i think i really have to commend you for such a well thought out comment. you don't see that very often, even though on deviantART, we're dealing with.....art! art that needs thought to understand it, not just an "awsum!"
so...congratulations. i have a lot of respect for this : )
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i was gonna run your ass over to this piece, but you beat me to the recommendation.
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i think you got the point
thanks for the comment
i'm glad you enjoyed it
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wow, this is really lovely
i appreciate the enjambment and white space, especially
nice duality with the title as well.
i'll be passing this one on.
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