(SR) L’ALTOPARNASSO: The Garland of the Silver Rose
L’Altoparnasso
THE GARLAND OF THE SILVER ROSE
Bhikkus, what have I taught you is comparable to the leaves in my hand, what I have not taught you, to the leaves in the forest
Buddha
STROPHE
I felt in a way like I had a duty
Owen Sheers
One World! One Planet! One People!
Ten thousand splinter’d tongues
Sing existence songs
But I sing the Song of Man
You can hear it in the dog-days of summer
The giggling flutes of children’s voices
Pianos smashing angrily down the stairs
No wonder ancient pagans
Depicted Paradise a place of Angel Song
Their song is our song
Feel it flourish everywhere
Better halt so we can hear it
Hear the flowers grow
We are here
This is our song
This is the Song of Ma
I was sat by my tent
Half-dreaming, playing with my hair,
Staring at the air
& there, legs crossed,
I found Homer,
Or rather, he found me,
“Close your eyes,” he said, “& see…”
ANTISTROPHE
Striding up to try & catch a glimpse of dolphins
Michael Mullen
I AM A POET!
Yes I know it
Why do I do it?
I don’t know,
But feel it, though!
When you’re in the zone
Every second turns to poesy
Those tramps sat in the park
Were they discussing Plato?
If you could see the hills of northern Spain
Again & again
Would you never want to die
Embracing immortalitie
What is it about life?
She seems to twist & turn
In the shadows, out for sun
Without a pause, relentless…
Let me turn the world to words
Capture that thought you thought you thought
Money come, money go,
Where it comes from I don’t know,
Where it goes to just the same,
Everybody on the game!
EPODE
Above us, souls are wandering in space
John Burnside
Little of life is truly in our power!
Beyond the blizzard, yon my wizard tower!
Dawn tickles rustling treetops
Ten thousand blended melodies
Harmonize delighted
“Awake, awake, O poet within me,
& let us try a line or two of rhyme
Clear words conforming in authentic song,
Some metaphysic symphony among
The global sagas of my time!”
Intellects exemplary of an age
Listen to my rage!
No longer vent your ineffective pen
At rafts of incidental, rakish men
Crumple thy page!
Affront, instead, the snow white smocks of nuns
With scandalous puns
& holy, then, with all that God affords
Rough’d up stages of musical awards
Fear loaded guns!
For, as stones hold the sun’s heat
Long after it is gone,
My poesis here forever shall remain…
Mumble Words 