Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
The religious references here are powerful. I love the notion of the 'halo around an apple treeup to its bough in sin.'Wonderful.
This is a breath-taking poem, William. Saturated with what I call imaginal energy--the way the you help us stand in the physical and psychic world and feel the double nature of things. Beautiful!
good moviment of words ... some of then are very personal to me . great !
Your poems come from so deep in your heart William...beautiful~~~
Thanks, Elisabeth, I’m glad it registered with you the way it did. The phrase arrived as sound, and I’ve been catching up to its meaning ever since.Joe, it feels like you’re speaking from inside a waterfall; I think I’ll join you, and maybe we can exchange rainbows....Good to hear, Caio. As you’ve said before, here we are, from different generations, cultures, and backgrounds, somehow speaking each other’s language. I’m grateful for that.Janice, thank you. In minutes, the poem didn’t take long at all to write. But my own experience is that each new piece, short, long, drawing, or otherwise, really takes a lifetime up to the moment it arrives. And a lifetime, like the heart, is a deep well — especially when you fall in.
I am! "The way the you help us..." I was distracted from my spelling by a gaping trout flying by....
Amen, brother--this spirit is moved!
Joe, you should have weighed your words on that fish’s scale....Good news, Vassilis — and somewhere on that tree, hidden among its leaves, is a shiny new poem with your name on it....
dear sir, perhaps "a ritual drowning" is not required (seems rather drastic and final), although a good hiding might be in order... in order to avoid sin? thank you for the pleasure of following your work :)
And thank you for following. It does all sound a bit dramatic, doesn’t it? But the nearest volcano is several hours’ drive, and, well, sometimes we just have to make do.
Ode to SadnessSadness, scarabwith seven crippled feet,spiderweb egg,scramble-brained rat,bitch's skeleton:No entry here.Don't come in.Go away.Go backsouth with your umbrella,go backnorth with your serpent's teeth.A poet lives here.No sadness maycross this threshold.Through these windowscomes the breath of the world,fresh red roses,flags embroidered withthe victories of the people.No.No entry.Flapyour bat's wings,I will trample the feathersthat fall from your mantle,I will sweep the bits and piecesof your carcass tothe four corners of the wind,I will wring your neck,I will stitch your eyelids shut,I will sew your shroud,sadness, and bury your rodent bonesbeneath the springtime of an apple tree.Pablo NerudaHallo William,beautiful poem you wrote,here is one from one for you and it from one of my favourites,warm greetings!Aleksandra!
That’s wonderful, Aleksandra! My thanks for this, and for your visit, and good wishes to you, too.
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