Din is driven by a
mentality cluttered by the noise of second’s expiration. The cuckoo’s voice erupts at new sixties
peak; perhaps, for some nadir, perhaps for some, nadir
Numerals escalate and
descend, slashed and severed, if but for a moments glance. Thrashing to
commencement, in an elapsed respite never to arrive anew. This is true, very true.
Portent looming
undoubtedly draws and expires. Crescendos rise and mergers meld. Confluence is
inevitable, only its perception can be swayed; only perception can be swayed.
Purpose wavers not,
yet design can be reconditioned. Whether wontedly framed or crafted to a future
glimpsed, it’s function remains, ignorant to change, ignorant to change.
Faster, turning in revolution.
Circle, persisting in syncopation. Morning ever reaches night, as is
continuity’s design, lest, of course, if batteries should fail, lest if the
battery should die.
Never altering
pacing’s creed, each minutia’s never to repeat. Sounding still or pealing high,
some build toward elation, others are solely bled to cry, others solely bred to
cry.
Some stare in
anticipation when predictability is ever known. Some ignite their todays by the
voices of a tomorrow never told. Ever waiting for a second hand, a second hand
to hold.
Head on over to D'Verse for this latest installment of Meeting The Bar, where Victoria is revisiting imagist poetry, yet offering a zinger of a twist. She does a great job explaining the theme more fully and offers some wonderful examples in her article, which I strongly encourage all to read. So, head on over, read the article, link up your poem and then sit back and enjoy the work of the other poets of D'Verse.
