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By Talisker
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21 February 2008 |
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My mind seeks out the scary places;
precipitous, narrow ledges, glass floors
Placed on a skyscraper roof
big, safe and flat as a football pitch
my mind is drawn to the very edge
mounting the parapet on roller blades
Shown an ancient, solid tree
whose trunk would stretch a dozen arms
my mind will seek the twiggy top
clinging, swinging in the breeze
My eyes devour a mountain side
a vast expanse of shining rock
my mind goes scanning for a niche
the fearless eagle would eschew
What kind of madness is this
when eyes in comfort seek out fear?
when ease is torment in itself?
when life is waiting for the fall?
Oli 21/02/08
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Written by NathanRoberts (211 comments posted) 21st February 2008 | I really liked this. The positives(?) of fear of searching to break boundaries...pushing to the edge. The nature of mind/humankind...to test the limits to question the safe status quo.
I was slightly unsure of the word 'waiting' in the last line....not certain why...maybe because the rest of the poem is about seeking/scanning...a movement of mind as opposed to statis?? |
Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3136 comments posted) 21st February 2008 | I really engaged with the idea of dangerous places as an analogy for dangerous emotional situations which is the only way most of us can seek out the adrenaline rush of danger and excitement. I may be being presumptous, you may not have meant that but that is how I read it.
I think the thing that marks out a really good piece of work is in the different meanings that can be read into it.
A bit of real quality and, boy, does the site need it! |
Written by Phil (6387 comments posted) 21st February 2008 | Jane's comment was interesting - especially because I sort of agreed - and didn't. I saw this more of a commentary on self-destructive tendencies - not just seeking of excitement. I do think that many of us deliberately put ourselves on the edges, partly as a measure of where we are (Next to the sea, for example, rather than lost in the middle of a plain.) but also because we can't quite believe or accept that what we have we deserve or will last. It's almost a self fulfilling prophesy.
Quality - certainly - are we in need - most certainly.
Yesterday, death; today, poetic Russian roulette. Plenty to think about, Oli.
Phil |
Written by Fledermaus (3159 comments posted) 21st February 2008 | | Very good poem. Humans are strange creatures eh? and poets are even strange amongst humans... |
Written by punchy (372 comments posted) 22nd February 2008 | | I liked this, really liked it. I wonder if it relates to most people or just those with a powerful fear of death or fear of the unknown. It reminds me of driving round those hairpin bends on the side of steep mountainous slopes in north devon. | Quality? You bet!.
Written by gerardconnolly (1186 comments posted) 22nd February 2008 | I've only just seen this Oli so I don't know what it was amended from. But amended or otherwise it is still a much crafted piece of writing. There are in my opinion but five contributors to GW who can claim to command all the skills of the serious poet : Patterjack; Gutterkitty; No1ButClo; Hutmaster and yourself. The rest range from the competent to those for whom competence would be a welcome achievement. God save us all.
Wonderful, understated command of language.
My compliments to you.
Slan! |
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