Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
There's our man reaching out again, and again the sky's no limit.
That's the poem's inner beauty (as I see it).I've been having a discussion with Henry Gould at "Plumbline" about the notion of "chasteness" in nineteenth-century Russian poetry.I think your poem is an excellent example of it.
This is wonderful, I must say. Three voices in three hours, from far, far away. And I suppose mine makes four.Lola, thank you — it’s always great to hear from you.Vassilis, have you ever noticed how the sky can slip right through your fingers?Conrad, I spent a few minutes at the Plumbline School after reading your comment — long enough to see what you were talking about, but nowhere near long enough to absorb and fully understand the content of the posts and your discussion. I read some of Akhmatova many years ago, and some about her. Generally speaking, the nineteenth century Russian authors are among my favorites.I’m pleased that you find in the poem an “inner beauty.” I don’t think I’ve heard that said of a poem before. A poem is made of so many things — rhythm, sound, arrangement on the page, its images, etc., all working in harmony. For instance, I don’t think I’ve ever read a poem that I found inwardly beautiful, but outwardly ugly, or even simply drab. I feel the same way about people. Harmony is beauty. Come to think of it, that’s pretty much what this poem says.
Boy oh boy,I must be ugly as a disharmonious tune from the mouth of someone who does not know or feel how to sing! As someone who represents everything but the harmony do I deserve to live? :O) Today I asked my mother to forgive me for that and for the fact I could not be happy in my life,all good mothers wish for their children to be happy.She forgave me! Now, I must forgive myself,thats what I learned from the Sky last night.Absolutely brilliant mind gem you presented here William,beautiful!
Aleksandra, if there’s a gem here, it’s your comment. And thanks to you, I think I better understand what Conrad said about inner beauty. You are a poem, and your words and actions — your art, your love of music, your compassion — are in harmony with your message. Thank you.
I learn from the best,and all of my teachers were long gone,Dead Poets Society,when you came in to my life with your noble soul,whispering trough the mulberry tree ..... "sanctuary,at last you found my rope,sunless cave with writing on the walls;be careful now,don't disturb the bones,but heat the bones,eat the bones....." ..this is what I understood you were saying in your "Sanctuary" when I stumble upon the "cave"on Armenian blog of your friend, you were whispering.... so,them"bones" are responsible for a beautiful friendship as I like to believe,thank you . :O)
Love the simplicity.
Aleksandra, thanks again. Yes, heed the moans....Kenneth, thanks. I appreciate it.
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