We all know that life can be a real “challenge” from one day to the next – or more like one minute to the next on occasion. When we try to fit everything that is important to us, along with the mundane necessities into our daily schedules, it makes for one hectic lifestyle. It generally leaves our minds frazzled and our bodies in a constant state of stress. So what do we do to calm down?
Well, in the case of this writer, there are a few things that come to mind. I am of the creative “ilk”, so I put my thoughts and energies into several things. The obvious outlet for my creativity is writing. I am also a musician, (I play guitar – left-handed – check out my website under “About”), and so for many years I wrote songs and played with quite a few bands. A lot of my songs became poetry, along with many more poems which have been compiled into one of my books called “TAPESTRY.” Many of my poems have a medieval tone and some are quite classic and epic in nature.
Like novels, poetry can carry you to parts unknown, but may have very different emotional and spiritual effects from person to person. A poem can allow you to see things from a different perspective, can tell a story, and often has a very tranquil or calming effect. At the most basic level, poetry is important because it makes us think, it opens us up to wonder and the sometimes astonishing possibilities of language. It is, in its subtle yet powerful way, a discipline for re-engaging with a world we take too much for granted. So, here are a couple of mine, and if you would like to read more, check out “TAPESTRY”.
I step upon the path
And strain my eyes to see ahead
I walk to strengthen my resolve
And resolve will make me walk instead
Throughout my life – toward the light
For answers to this strange and tangled thread
I move upon the road
And hasten toward the light I see
I run to manifest my hope
And hope it finds my inner need
Throughout my days – a thousand ways
For answers that are always plaguing me
I fly above the highway
And stretch my wings up to the sky
I soar because the dream is real
And real is cause to fantasize
Throughout the years – and all the tears
For answers to this haunting lullaby
I sit here by the windowsill
And sometimes wonder while I’m still
If life is but a test of will
Or dreamlike with a wisp of smoke
To damn us all, as if it spoke
But now that I have gathered age
I see my life as one more page
Of teaching like a withered sage
To dream upon a younger man
As only one with my age can
And set into this world a passioned rage
For this to go on as before
The young must always yearn for more
Than living stolid, war to war
And hiding from their feelings lost
While living, though their lives are tossed
Onto the sand that marks the ocean’s shore
I hope you enjoy – Happy reading,
Do you have a favorite poet or poem?
“Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.”
– Edgar Allan Poe
“Poetry is a sensual assault on your senses.”
– Solitaire Parke
There is a rhythmic cadence to poetry that no other form of writing can equal. It is the only known method to transfer a person’s thoughts and feelings at the emotional level without sacrificing their intellect. Poetry sets up a flow that can be as lazy as a Summer’s day or as torrid as a raging River. It allows you to play with your vocabulary for an emotional outcome as dense as armor or as filmy as gauze. It penetrates the heart and can cause tears to cleanse the soul.
The rhyme scheme does not matter, only the fervor that you place within it. Gentle and damaging, it speaks to us all. Simple as breathing or as a riddle that can vex you to the core. That being said…Riddle Me This…
Here is a poem, veiled as a riddle and a mystery. The first person to guess its meaning and leave the answer as a comment will win a signed copy of my new Poetry book “Tapestry”! Two copies of “Tapestry” in ebook will also be up for grabs!
THE ENDLESS FLAME
by Solitaire Parke
A ring of fire with the strength of four.
The mist is rising and calls for more
Than scorched remains it holds below.
But summons from the heat it sows
Aromas from the flesh it sears
And stings the eyes with stubborn tears.
A frozen wasteland in darkened white.
Day breaks without heat as its wall ignite
In a crystalline layer of myriad glass.
This snow bank’s eternal and time cannot pass.
Yet moved from the haven above time and space,
It warms in the sunlight – immortality erased.
Lush and tropic, it rains on cue.
The heat is stifling as waves pour through
This forest of afterthoughts we’ve left behind.
A sea of sensations that no one will find.
Then like parchment it dries in the hot summer air
As the cycle repeats itself year after year.