Gaia’s Offspring
GAIA’S OFFSPRING
Are we any more then than shadow?
Cast by some greater light, then adrift
Wriggling fingers of a greater hand
Scratching for some miserly purchase
From endless oceans of fine ground sand
Or pen and ink with which to stake claim
In truth no Shelley nor even Smith
The core of us barely substantial
Yet strut our stuff and nonsense at will
As self-appointed lord and master
Wild histories strained through calendars
Fuzzy snapshots back before colour
Ghost spirits captured in black and white
Beckon ever further inward yet
Moments, centuries, millennia …
Taurus, Scorpio, Aquarius
Join hands with Leo – a circle dance
To comfort those who seek for shelter
From the icy blasts of Fenrir’s howls
Parasites biting the hand that heals
Imagine that, a serpent with hands
Mythic conjurations down the years
Coded missives handed soul to soul
Like wormholes threading through the fabric
White with black within and black with white
Future yesterdays in present time
Before the confluence was broken
Who dreamt who dreamt before this head show?
Way back before the Word was spoken
Paradise captured in rhythmic rhyme
Across the darkness, “Let there be light”
Though not enough to read the rubric
Revealing the journey as the goal
Triumphs and failures, laughter and tears
Roaming eyes and hands mocked wedding bands
One for his nob and two for his heels
Reprobates disguised in monkish cowls
History’s course runs helter-skelter
Manifestation a game of chance
Your turn to despair, Ozymandias
Borne on see-through wings, ephemera
Born to dance one graceful minuet
Knowing too well death comes before night
In denial beneath the pallor
Masking the stench with sweet lavenders
The blood rushes faster and faster
The time approaches to pay the bill
The evidence is circumstantial
Time to see what hides behind the myth
Mayhap just a game – no blame, no shame
A pageant being played out as planned
In some realm beyond thought of purpose
Fresh blooms revealed all across the land
A new day emerges as mists shift
Wildflowers nodding slowly in a meadow
——————————————————————
Notes:
“In truth no Shelley nor even Smith”
“Your turn to despair, Ozymandias”
See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ozymandias
“From the icy blasts of Fenrir’s howls”
“Parasites biting the hand that heals”
See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fenrir
“Like wormholes threading through the fabric
White with black within and black with white”
See http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/wormhole and http://taoism.about.com/od/visualsymbols/p/YinYang.htm
“One for his nob and two for his heels”
See http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/one-for-his-nob-two-for-his-heels-1252497.html
Posted on April 30, 2014, in Poetry, Writing and tagged Gaia, God, History, Life, Mystery, Nature, Religion. Bookmark the permalink. 21 Comments.
You understand perfectly the “Games” the world has played. Each a pawn amid the pyrmids of deception. This was a very indepth view. Much Truth hidden within your lines. You obviously ” See” the world as it IS. Not as those who are blinded by the lies we have been told.
Gaia I am certain is proud to have born you as an offspring of the Light.
Blessings
Sue
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was working on the final portions of this when I read your post today, which spurred me on to finish it and use it as a comment. 🙂 So glad you like it.
LikeLike
🙂 I did
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Spirit Train Chronicles.
LikeLike
Wow! What a ride. You gather these many thoughts, swallowed them whole and regurgitated right back on the world. Fertilizering the perfect and delicate wild flowers. Love it Ben.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Kim. Makes a nice change from senryu. 🙂 (And did you spot the rhyme scheme?)
LikeLike
Yes I did. Most original.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not really. I nicked it from Dylan Thomas. 🙂
LikeLike
“You gather these many thoughts, swallowed them whole and regurgitated right back on the world.”
Watch this nine minute video.
LikeLike
I love these lines, Ben:
“Mayhap just a game – no blame, no shame
A pageant being played out as planned
In some realm beyond thought of purpose”
~ I was drawn to them above all others.
There is so much in this poem I shall return to absorb – it is a ‘re-reader’.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s good to hear. It took some time and effort to put together. 🙂
LikeLike
A great big word banquet! Hairy-eared ancestors will spit and nod, not all wastrels, then, our drear descendants. ( and Dylan, too, will no doubt, have just a small one, on your acccount…)
LikeLiked by 1 person
I trust you enjoyed the feast, Simon.
LikeLike
Rich with profound lines that have deep meaning to me. Thanks, Ben, for the link – one I missed. It needs to be read many times. I currently don’t have a printer hooked up to my computer but when I do, will print this out and savor it thoroughly. Great poetry, Sir!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Betty. I thought it might be up your street. I decided to write it as a countdown: ten, nine, eight etc stanzas, which resulted in 55 lines. 55 is a Fibonacci number.
See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fibonacci_number
and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fibonacci_number#In_nature.
I had been reading an article on this.
I had also recently read Dylan Thomas’s “Prologue” and decided to follow the same rhyme scheme.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/prologue/
LikeLike
Love the poem & the effort you put in to following the shadows. I feel you are taking us through our illusions. Need to read more than once. Overflowing & challenging to the mind. t is a overall scope of life through symbols created throughout history. We create what we thing is here in this life. All the while the illusion shall knock on death’s door. Moving us toward the future which we all face someday unknown & even though expected, it is better to believe sometimes it is a surprise and unexpected. Love your use of Dylan Thomas’ rhyming method. It work majestically. The story you tell flows in a perfect rhythm. Jk
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Jennifer, for your kind, thoughtful and insightful words. I’m glad you like this piece. One for the book perhaps? I offer several hints as to meanings and references above, both up front and in response to comments. And you speak of rereading it; should you evolve further questions along the way you know how to find me. And I know you love the Fibonacci series. 🙂
One further suggestion is that you try reading each specific stanza as a poem in its own right, whilst also being a link in a chain.
LikeLiked by 2 people
You are a mentor to many. The center of you is a place many who read your work and hear what you offer in truth and music find their own place of inspiration due to your.
I will read your poem again. If more rises to the surface I will reach out to you.
Numbers! ❤
A link in a chain. I will have to figure out what it feels like. Maybe I am. I know I connected to animals and certain people in a real way with it not being destructive.
It has been a creative day. Worked on project needing attention. Feel like I am juggling. Many projects – so little Time. I even get up 3 hrs than usual.
Need sleep. Need meds. Thirsty, too. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Remember to be kind and gentle to yourself. 🙂
LikeLike
I have been meandering through The Mabinogion lately, so this, “From the icy blasts of Fenrir’s howls” delighted me. The references, woven in with Dylan’s rhyme scheme, mixed with the music of the metaphors makes this, in my opinion, one of your best works, Ben Naga.
“Are we anymore then than shadow?”
“Wild histories strained through calendars”
“Parasites biting the hand that heals”?
I wonder . . .
“Who dreamt who dreamt before this head show?”
Let us now then consider famous men:
“History’s course runs helter-skelter
Manifestation a game of chance
Your turn to despair, Ozymandias”
“The blood rushes faster and faster
The time approaches to pay the bill”
“In some realm beyond thought of purpose
Fresh blooms revealed all across the land
A new day emerges as mists shift
Wildflowers nodding slowly in a meadow”
There are hard truths in here, along with a sense of the wild beauty in the earth that makes our blood rush faster and faster. Who dreamt who dreamt? Where is the being, spirit, substance, light that made all of this? These wild histories straining through calendars, we parasite that bite the hand that heals?
But in the end, in spite of our doubts and imaginings and fears and despair, inside the land of myths and mists, wildflowers nod slowly in a meadow, and we are here, seeing what is to be seen and wondering about what hides behind the myth, history, the game of chance, the behavior of both us and reprobates, the endless oceans of fine grained sand.
I love it when you make a major effort, Ben Naga.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have to await Her call, I’m afraid. This kind of thing doesn’t arise at the drop of a hat. But here’s another piece of the same ilk which I am sure you will enjoy reading and reflecting on: 🙂
https://bennaga.wordpress.com/2012/10/10/reflection-and-expression/
LikeLike