i
the billigits live little lives serene
yet i must stifle an evilmost scream
as they mince frolic and gambol too sweet
i resist punching my hoof through the screen
ii
rhyme schemes and ten beats are doing me in
so many better words fail to win
and those soggy syllables weigh me down
them soft to the tongue like being and been
iii
i will be a magic goat (rose and thorn)
and soar far above life’s punch in the horn
and prance and caper and do whatever
it takes to make it big like capricorn
iv
yet i take solace in my workly work
even though i must machete through the jerks
soonly saint of the adverbs I shall be
long before we see peace on earthly earth
Leila
“WOW” is all I can really say to this (plus a few other things) penultimate part of the poem.
This moment where the moving hoof steps out from behind the curtain to announce both her own future and the future of the world and her own future in the world, has a lonely majesty to it that will leave all Readers of Real Poetry with a tear in the eye and a feeling of awe and deep respect deep in the heart.
In a world where almost ALL the new, so-called “poetry” is a mishmash of recycled identity politics cliches and/or other fluff and worthless nonsense, reading this poem as it has appeared has been a lifelong memorable experience.
This poem proves that so many things are not really dead in the world even though all the resentful, premature morticians and politicians have brought out their “RIP” signs a long time ago with such chortling, groupthink, mind-controlled glee.
The long poem, the serial/episodic production of literature, the rhyming quatrain and much more, even the English Language itself, have all been quietly resurrected by the Moving Hoof.
To anyone who has read some or all of this poem I say: “You have been there at the place where Walt Whitman, first great American poet, said, ‘I stop somewhere waiting for you.'”
Dale
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“As you from crimes would pardoned be, let your indulgence set me free.”
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There’s an interesting story about Michelangelo.
After he finished the Sistine Chapel ceiling, someone asked him how he felt about it.
His answer was simply this: “I’m not a painter and I don’t know how to paint.”
And he never wavered from that judgement of, and feeling about, himself.
He had just completed the biggest, greatest painting of all time and he felt like he wasn’t a painter.
He quietly went back to (for the most part) making sculptures, and writing poetry, the two things he felt he was good at.
The wealth and variety of characters who live and fly around in the sky doing their various things in and across this rubaiyat reminds one of the Sistine Chapel ceiling (and the fact that there’s more coming this summer – even more amazing). We live in a much later age and also The Age of Absurdity so the tone is sure to be different, but this rubaiyat touches the same kind of profuseness, kind of like Eliot’s Wasteland did/does or the life’s work of H.D., a neglected (for many decades) writer who combined Freudian psychoanalysis, Christianity, Cabala, The Koran, Spiritualism, Paganism, Esotericism, Gnosticism, Eastern mysticism, and many other world-strands into her vision and life itself. She called WS “gentle Shakespeare” and said he androgynously combined male and female within his own person, etc etc….
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Hi Dale
I think I understand that feeling. Modern pop psych defines that as Imposter Syndrome. But really, for me, it is the work. I believe some people are shy about explaining it because they already opened the vein once and do not like to talk about it.
Still, great artists do shine through. Very little is known about WS, but I have no doubt he will be just as respected five hundred years from now.
Anyway, Michelangelo probably would have understood Bukowski’s “Don’t try.” I think Will would have liked that too. Just get on with it has always been one of humankind stronger good points.
Leila
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Coincidency coincidence – just subbed something to Red Rose Thorn.
Monster Mirth
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Hi Doug
May that coincidence bring good fortune, in well May.
Leila
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Machete through jerks. Oh, okay then, let’s be ‘aving ’em. I sense a tiny rise in emotion here, perchance. ? dd
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Thank you Diane
Yes the Moving Hoof is an emotional artist.
Leila
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