I have been a poet of some years under the name raxnae that I self created and seem to be the first to use such a name, and while some read my poems, some understand them to a certain extent, others less so, but rarely if ever am I asked "What is the STORY behind that poem?". Well it is here in the Poet's Club that we are free to share our Poetry with each other, comment and critique, but most of all delve into the deeper meaning and here from the poet themself the story behind their creation, their thoughts and feelings and generally everything leading up to the creation of their work. You may also feel free to use this as a "philosophers" round table as before I was a Poet I was a Philosopher and good ol' philosophical pondering is always fun. The Format for Poetry posts should be as follows. POEM Author's Comments about Poem (give the story behind your work as well as various interpretations, who knows someone may comment upon it and show you a new way of looking at your work)
FUTURE SHADOWS OF THE PAST {The Presence of the Mosaic implies the will of Unity=God=Starhumanity and not the will of Humanity=Man=Separation! "A most wondrous thing the Shadow is, a redeemer in all to succour; it can go where the light cannot abide, seemingly banished, it is not. For where the light is, the darkness flees, no longer present to endure; so to become illuminated is its destined journey and its troubled lot. But without the light, no Shadow can be cast, its such a splendid key; the dimensions reduce in space from three to two and all in just the one. Betwixt the light and the darkness it is and part of both for all to see; the Shadow of the body, does it not merge all in its rule under the sun? Whatsoever can cast a Shadow, must be a most wondrous thing to relay; as nature's very own offspring, the young ones grow towards their final goal. Enabled to bring peace to so many things appearing apart and so far away; the reconciliation for the suffering body with its spirit and its scattered soul." {A sexy dragonqueen seduced me to write this poem - shilohaplace}
Shapeshifter May 5, 2011 at 3:09am The sound of the Drum’s Heartbeat carried me Down and down I spiraled Boom caw boom Caw Deeper I fell Boom caw boom Boom, The base Reverberating inside The bottom of my skull There In the underworld I met Raven Standing on a tree stump Glistening in the Sun Chest, bared open Like a wounded pomegranate Her beating heart Framed in ebony Stared at me Its red wet seed Pulsing inside The gaping void She plucked it out A tender offering, “EAT” she said And I did eat, My vision blurred And I fell to my knees Flung my arms out To catch myself But they had become Monolith wings I stared down The length of them into Infinity Its cry ripping through My pointed beak I cawed and crowed Quivered and shook Lunging myself Upward to the sky I flew over the land And I saw all through Corvid eyes Black and White One eye the Sun The other the Moon Out of this void I flew Rising on thermals Of my fleeting human Thoughts Arching myself like A steely arrow Driven to its prey Toward the eternal Dark Star Higher and higher, Feathers spread wide Touching the stillness Where fingers once grew Until I eclipsed The whole world Within my onyx embrace. ©Julienne Alvarez This poem is my attempt to transport the reader into the heart of my shamanic event that occured in the early 80s. I went to a Native American drumming circle and was taken down into the underworld where i met Raven. And so it was there that I was initiated and given Raven's medicine and came to know my totem spirit.
Very nice Raven, I see many correlations between my own Raven experience and yours. Love the Void Imagery. Those Shamanic Journeys can be quite the handful haha.
DE MORTUIS NIL NISI BONUM {Speak Nothing but Good of the Dead} Out in the graveyard; inscriptions, words and plaques, all withering away; like the flowers adorning them, so the dead do lay. Waiting and waiting for someone to remember them and not just in photoalbums or on the special days. Memorials are built, meaningless constructions - lest we forget! They all are forgotten, given time enough to sigh, to pass away. The living are so busy preparing for their own demise, to die. Little do they know, the busy ones, that the dead are still alive. They watch over the living ones, they do, from a place so far; yet so near they are, but why would they watch the way they do? To understand the mystery is the noble thing to do - a gallant quest. They wish to be remembered, to join in soul and mind , the body's zest. A marriage betwixt the dimensions, a holy union in heaven with hell. But can the fearful thoughts of the living see, their lovehearts tell? The living are like snowflakes, made of water, so unique one by one. But they melt away, to be fluid again - into the one great ocean, gone! The dead are all one in the great seas, waiting to crystallise again in two. To wake up to a new life again, as a snowflake-twin, asking: 'Love me too!' Eternal life awaits the living, could they only reply to the dead's request. But the alive ones linger and doubt, in vanity do they live their only quest. SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI {Thus passes away the glory of the world} This poem was composed in 2001 in a period of transpersonal realism and it could be said to be co-authored by two states of beingness, rendered as 'Dead Alive Ones' with and complemented by 'Living Dead Ones'.
Nice poem Shiloh! I always love a good poem about life and death, and the Dead Alive ones and the Living Dead ones are potent metaphors. I've always wondered why we live as though we are dying and die as though we are living.