Meditation in Space and Time
by
June Nazarian
copyright 02-02-2008
Age Rating: 13 to 127
Alone in a dimly lit dining room
Expanding the use of its name
I partake of the elegant quietude
Imbibe of the ordered surround
Euclidean splendor displayed above
Of chandelier prism refractions
Intricate patterns, bright to obscure
Gently hypnotic, always consistent
Black wicks on unlit candles
Bespeak of other times
Reminders of joyous moments
Merry Christmas, good tidings to all
Pass the turkey, give praise for God's bounty
Beneath the mirrored tabletop
Reflections of candlesticks hanging
AS mighty crystalline stalactites
Illusively bound to its underbelly
Illusions, all, in space and time
Life's fatal false reality
Nothing more than whirling specks
Within a field of energy
I sit alone in my dimly lit corner
I talk to myself, myself says "hello"
We gather together
We count all our blessings
We find a green bough
And wait for the songbird
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I picture this room perfectly from the description. Large dim lit dining rooms are a favorite of mine. Glasses in the cabinets seem to stare back at you. (when nobody is around-hello self) Much more fun to picture them full-with family home, much!
Our language is one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, in the world. It is also one of the most complex, being able to offer tangible realities that can be felt and heard and seen and tasted, and intangible realities that can only be felt and imagined.
The writer takes the pen as the artist takes the brush, and like the lyricist's words, the song writer's melodies, a vision is created. Sometimes sharp and clear, other times misty blurred. And if the writing is good, as the painting must also be, the reader is trapped, ensnared, and follows the writer's direction. And therein lies the magick of your craft: to impact on each and every one, but in their own way, that each will see what you have wrought, but
also, that their own life's treasures are brought out to be seen again.
Even when a work might selfishly be done, if it inspires visions, or memories, or desires, or gives the reader tangible delights, you will have been working your craft most excellently.
This work does all of those and more.
Welcome to PnP! ^_~
Greetings June. This poem is interesting... from what I gather, the setting is in a dining room, some time around Christmas. I never considered chandeliers to be an expression of Euclidean geometry, but the beauty of it is that everyone has a different view of things. I also never considered things to be illusions and "fatal false realities" within "a field of energy", but that is the beauty of different view points: someone can see what another cannot. Anyway, this is quite interesting.
Your word choice is unusual but good because it seems to define the essence of the poem: a world view steeped in science and philosophy (to some degree). Aside from that, I have no original criticism to offer. Because I do not like to beat a dead horse, I will simply leave you congratulations for a job well done.
I have to admit, I don't have a very expansive list vocabulary words in my head and this one sent me to the dictionary looking for some new additions.
Again, you have amazed me with your writing that you've earned yet another 5 praise points from me this morning. I really, honestly, can't wait to read more of your writing. I love it!
Very intense vocabulary in description...I award you a cookie. :D though I did spot a typo in paragraph four, you have "AS" instead of "As." Simple capitalization error...I am just a capitalization freak traumatized by my first grade teacher and pick up on these things very quickly. ^-^
The descriptions really caught my eye. They gave the poem a really professional and sophisticated feel. The idea of the poem supported the descriptions, and all in all it was a good poem. Good work, keep it comin'!
Excellent imagery and some really fine turns of phrase here:
"Imbibe of the ordered surround"
* very nice*
I also note a strange effect (in my reading): a drop in quality the moment you try to 'debunk' the above imagery in stanza five. Indeed, the drop in quality is perfectly symbolic of what often happens when we try to reduce qualities to quantities. The world becomes forlorn and dessicated. It puts me in mind of the title of an article I once read: "If you can't reduce, you must eliminate." And my what we lose, when we do. Reason we must, but so often reason is a basilisk, killing what it sees. This effect also suggested what happens when one goes from seeing the outside to withdrawing into ones self.
If this effect was intentional, bravo. And even if it wasn't.
June, you have not wasted any time making a splash in the PnP pool. This was very nice, indeed. I am somewhat of a minimalist, myself; so I would just like to pass on this (I hate to you the word) advice: I think many of us grew up reading the overly decorated poetry of the 19th century, and the overly obfuscated poetry of the 20th; and that shaped our idea of what poetry should sound like. For me, poetry is like geometry: the shortest (most readable) distance between 2 points is a straight line. Keep up the good work.
Welcome !
