Simple Complexity ~ Complex Simplicity
Mind Field ~ Philip Brent Harris
Why then must poetry’s meaning be couched,
Like the imagined sea-sound heard in a shell?
May fleeting beauty, convoluted truth be vouched,
Said simply and offered crystal-clear from a well?
Will it help if I use night to presage age or death,
Flying birds or sunsets standing in for nature’s glory?
Will unformed clay, with just a twist, yield life, breath?
Why cannot I a simpler rhyme use to tell my story?
Yes, poetry may march in rhythm, a beating heart,
Pounding surf upon the shore, inexorable entropy.
Yet, if my storm, my sun, my cloud don’t play their part,
So misunderstood that they may be snatched from me.
Simple is as simple does, or so his mama said.
When every single word may mean many things,
Can my true thought, intent be ever known or read?
Yet call a spade a spade and they’ll say it doesn’t sing.
Approaching dusk, I measured my slow tread homeward,
As the multihued rays of Erytheia’s fan wave the sky,
Closing slowly, gently, to reveal the jewel-speckled sward.
I pause to watch the darkening vista, to wonder why.
Each rise splashes color to daub a different day.
Little feet, little hands, different pallets in truth.
With backs bent and minds burdened we ply our way.
Yet, hearts alone bring the fulsome flavor to our mouth.
Engorged with the infinite feast and more, we stop.
Too empty, too full to risk another step toward home,
Still, we must dance the tune, our daily two-step hop
And hope it makes us feel that we are less alone.
Wait, listen, don’t you hear the siren’s sweet, sad song,
Filled with every joy, desolation, hope and nagging pain,
That we know the evening’s curtain falls, calling us along.
We bow, exit, poor players, yearn to trod the boards again.
Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
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