Exile
Posted on November 24, 2007
credit: Mantovani – Exodus
(we hold something precious in our hands: the fate of our very own true inner self. “a fragile craft in gentle hands “)
EXILE
I wonder often what dark dreams
were flowing through my silent mind
and where did all those waters flow
the streams of unrelenting thought?
My refuge was to ask for naught
and dwell aboard where few dared go
A fragile craft in gentle hands
In far-off lonely foreign lands.
That stranger lurks within us all
and it is odd to pause, recall
those dark and brooding times I sought
and inner bitter wars I fought.
And all this frenzy in my soul
as if I never could be whole
as if I couldn’t live or die
so many hurting years… gone by.
F.M.
(c)
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on August 28, 2012, 10:09 am
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Thanks fer the explanation. It made it real fer me, flyin’ dude.
As they say, "still waters run deep" and this is some deep stuff. You painted a bittersweet picture of where you are and where you’ve been and a purdy vivid portrait of where humankind can go… glad I’m a bear!
Simply, Le’
Huh?
The waters ain’t the only thing runnin’ deep around here, Bear!
I do agree this is some purdy powerful writin’ though…
Nice picture too, Hairy (I meant the Bear).
Gordon
No I got it. This is one of those things that come to you when you don’t know exactly where you physically are or really how you got there…or even much what you’re doing there. You were probably looking out over those Gulf waters when you thought of this weren’t you. Something similar happened to me at at my first fire, I’m like "whoa, hold on a minute, am I actually here? I have no idea if I’m still on the same planet or not and trying to think back on how I got here is a blur." Like things are moving fast and slow at the same time and you’re not going to ask questions, you’re just going to go with it, no idea if it’s good or if its bad.
A fragile craft in gentle hands
In far-off lonely foreign lands.
Very very good.
This is a good poem, but the last two lines don’t sound quite right.
I like the foto very much. It has atmosphere.
The photo was taken "somewhere" over an atoll in the Pacific Ocean.
A lot of long, solitary flights over inhospitable parts of Earth.
It was a time of strong introspection, hardening a feeling that I was not too impressed with the human race as a species. And, ergo, with myself.
That stranger lurks within us all.
I glimpse adventure as a defining piece to a sense of purpose. Quite the exciting refuge, though, maybe not lasting. I’m not entirely sure what to say. I admire your skill, sir. Thank you for writing.
I love poetry. The joy in writing poetry is that sometimes you want to merely develop a "theme".
Almost like a melody. In a way, it’s wordless, and deals more with feelings. Writing "Exile" took weeks. I wanted it to sound ‘just’ right, and "suggest" rather than "state". Like the music from "Exodus", a reader hopefully is left with an "impression", rather than with any kind of "statement" or "message"…
In this respect, Alister, when you say "I’m not entirely sure what to say", then I feel that is actually a spot-on comment…
How interesting. The comments are as absorbing as the poem!
I do follow the idea of creating a ‘mood’, or expressing a ‘theme’.
I liked the evoca audio, and I liked the music.
For s short poem,it does create a strong impression. I think I would use the word ‘wistful’ perhaps, in describing the feeling I got out of it.
A fragile craft in gentle hands
In far-off lonely foreign lands.
At first I read that as talking about flying a helicopter in foreign lands. But when I started seeing it also as an allegory for one’s inner self, one’s ‘true self’ I ended up having to read the whole thing all over. And, yes, we do need to be gentle with ourselves.
I enjoyed this. Thanks.
Beautiful and haunting words, Francis. Excellent Write.