© Steve King 2016
All rights reserved
I wait upon that passing peace
cessation of this laboring
and febrile cast of mind
emptied of all wanting
every risen doubt
efforts easing in retreat
slipped but for an instant
this I know
expectation of a gentling tide
a quelling of the sort
to shutter all intention and regard
bastardry of madding dreams
and every sharp discontinuity
shadow of benign design
to ease the blinding weariness
and press of insolent ideas
balm each emptied sense
each dormant expectation
everything that would be known as me
musing in full silence
invitation and response at large
grateful for the mindful loss of words
so not to test the call of every void
straining on the whisper
of the distant friend
without a name
who ever waits
patient to all ends
A new poem for The Poetry Pantry
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
You describe the yearning for inner calm so beautifully..the quiet in which to discover"everything that will be known as me"...
ReplyDeleteoh yes inner peace is a treasure worth the striving
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed your meditation on Peace today
much love...
This made me think that sometimes words are a hinderance in the search for peace - perhaps because we add judgements to the phrases we use? the last verse leaves me with hope - that true understanding, respect and friendship often does not require any words
ReplyDeletestraining on the whisper
ReplyDeleteof the distant friend
without a name..
Such a beautiful sense of longing and hope in these lines...!
This is a beautiful poem, Steve. It has terrific cadence, and though I am usually someone who favors (and undoubtedly overuses) punctuation, the lack of it here serves you well as the lines veer (wrong word)--as the lines call out and respond with amplifying words and moving on words or even counterarguments, and yet they all flow together with the lack of punctuation, even as they sort themselves out with your careful line breaks.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed that part, but also of course, how it serves the main content--I also have a busy mind, I guess--I love that it is not mindlessness you crave--mere silence--but the mindful loss of words, the deliberate choice not to deliberate-- anyway, well done. k.
Thank you, Karin. I, too, tend to punctuate thoroughly; but since this piece is about waiting on the muse, I thought I'd let her take me where she would.
DeleteReally being able to enjoy true silence is such a calming gift. This poem seems to me a beautiful meditation on the subject.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful...inner peace and calm such a gift.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the last verse as it has a aura of mystery. Who is the distant friend? It can be taken as oneself or an encounter with someone never met.
ReplyDeleteA contemplative poem for a Sunday morning.
I do love the sense of that seeking... where silence might be what we crave, but we can only set it to words... one of the great contradictions o life.
ReplyDeleteI most love that distant friend without a name. A very intriguing poem.
ReplyDelete"grateful for the mindful loss of words" the line stands out...surely the 'distant friend' will fill the void with the words yearned for...
ReplyDelete"bastardry of madding dreams" is superb!
ReplyDeleteyes, contemplative and insightful. gracias
ReplyDeleteI am at a loss of words except to iterate that which I've said before: just lovely my friend!
ReplyDelete