The Pain Of Being Created
Thursday, 13. September 2007, 18:57:59
My first attempt(s) at Carmen Figuratum, commonly known as- Visual Poetry. 
The Pain of Being Created I
Of Music…
The chanting of the pianos environs the event,
The violin accentuates a bewailing plangency,
Rhythmic marimbas tremble and jingle, while
Their rhythm propels, in pain, in percussion.
Heavens quiver; and the air waves
Shudder in these ambient agonies,
Soreness screams,reverberating, in
The excruciating pain of Creation--
Pain of lyrical words being Euphonied.
And yet, ignoring these sheer complaints, stormy
Forces, and forces alone, blow the resenting oboe—
Unforgiving, unbending. The harps continue to gasp,
Singing of the pain---the unendurable pain--
The pain of being music, of becoming
Tones being Symphonied.
The Pain of Being Created II
Of A Pearl…
The inscrutable blue
Of the dark coiled waves muffles the anguish
Yearning to pierce out, as cries in sharp outbursts of woe;
Benighted creatures, of the deep chambers of the sea, lurk around--
Hearing not, caring nor. In this dark sea-pit, the darkness and the waves
Transude an icy chill; and yet-- in another dark pit, a gem has born to burn,
In aching fits of pain, only to be embraced by the dark, the dirt, the dread---
“Save me”, she weeps, “from what is unendurable, spare me, oh, from Life”,
And in her ears a Voice whispers, “But you are ignorant still, little gem,
Of the grace and honor of your birth! The Queen of gems you are!”
“And a slave at man’s disposal!”, she cries, and thereof lies
In absolute silence, in the obsolete womb ---
In the inscrutable blue.
The Pain of Being Created III
Of A Poem…
A
Swift swish of
Thoughts, in a
Clear corner
Of the mind---
A shiver in the
Surface of the
Parchment----
And the timid
Pen shudders
Along with it---
The parchment
Stain’d with the
Blood seeping,
From the pen--
(In pain & awe
Of birth)as
Ink.
- Symphony
The Pain of Being Created I
Of Music…
The chanting of the pianos environs the event,
The violin accentuates a bewailing plangency,
Rhythmic marimbas tremble and jingle, while
Their rhythm propels, in pain, in percussion.
Heavens quiver; and the air waves
Shudder in these ambient agonies,
Soreness screams,reverberating, in
The excruciating pain of Creation--
Pain of lyrical words being Euphonied.
And yet, ignoring these sheer complaints, stormy
Forces, and forces alone, blow the resenting oboe—
Unforgiving, unbending. The harps continue to gasp,
Singing of the pain---the unendurable pain--
The pain of being music, of becoming
Tones being Symphonied.
The Pain of Being Created II
Of A Pearl…
The inscrutable blue
Of the dark coiled waves muffles the anguish
Yearning to pierce out, as cries in sharp outbursts of woe;
Benighted creatures, of the deep chambers of the sea, lurk around--
Hearing not, caring nor. In this dark sea-pit, the darkness and the waves
Transude an icy chill; and yet-- in another dark pit, a gem has born to burn,
In aching fits of pain, only to be embraced by the dark, the dirt, the dread---
“Save me”, she weeps, “from what is unendurable, spare me, oh, from Life”,
And in her ears a Voice whispers, “But you are ignorant still, little gem,
Of the grace and honor of your birth! The Queen of gems you are!”
“And a slave at man’s disposal!”, she cries, and thereof lies
In absolute silence, in the obsolete womb ---
In the inscrutable blue.
The Pain of Being Created III
Of A Poem…
A
Swift swish of
Thoughts, in a
Clear corner
Of the mind---
A shiver in the
Surface of the
Parchment----
And the timid
Pen shudders
Along with it---
The parchment
Stain’d with the
Blood seeping,
From the pen--
(In pain & awe
Of birth)as
Ink.
- Symphony
