Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Boring Meeting Poetry

I have much boring meeting poetry, but I kind of like this one.  It is not meant to be depressing, though people will read it that way anyway, won't they?

Many have said - all surfaces are veils.
Thus, one need only grip the skin firmly
Between finger and thumb and lift to peel
Away the thin overlay in order to see
The heart of all things pulsing in darkness
And silence, and yet I must ask what
Lies beneath the surface of all things,
If we must posit a universal essence,
If not nothing, sometimes named death,
But more universal, as what has never been
Born cannot die, but it is what is not,
Whether faded or merely postulated,
That is the only thing that holds up
What is.  Hence all things hasten to ruin;
Within the flowering plant in bloom
Beats the pulse of sere brown leaves
Rotting in the soil whence it sprung.


Lonin said...

here where the world is quiet...

Grace Mulligan said...

Heh heh, what with the Pater and the Swinburne, my blog is turning into an Aestheticism party! Suddenly my interest is piqued in the idea of taking a course about the Aesthecism movement - too bad I have no idea how I would go about doing that.

Dance Visions said...

Who wrote that??

Grace Mulligan said...

Well, if you check the tags, it is clearly either Shakespeare, Robinson Jeffers, or me. It is obviously not Shakespeare. I suppose it could be Robinson Jeffers, but nope, it's me.