Confession

A falling sun
Dipping into a
Wandering spirit:
Hope is conspiring
Against love! Yet,

It’s not love;
The word does not
Express the full scope
Of an action spied,
About to be!

Realistically
Love is the stream of
Long lasting duties,
While passion a lost,
Living luxury.

We bury alive
A true burning sun
In the snow of such
Memories that fade,
Committing yet more
Blasphemies!


27-10-2003

I loved the word choice in this one. Also the imagery. Great job!

I especially love the last stanza.

Thanks a lot for the encouraging comments! I appreciate it!

Nah, you have got it all wrong.

Love is not about passion, vigor and anguish.

That is the twoing and throwing of your ego, aligning itself with the realisation that actually, somebody (other than your mother) might really like you.

Love, my son, is looking at your wedding picture with a certain sense of inevitability, yet being comfortable with it.

You talk of passion/duty as if the two were alien. They are not, they are as good and evil. I will not explain further.

But I do agree with you to an extent, D-a-d! "Love is not about passion"! Love is the expression we use in reality to describe endurable relationships.Passion is more like Hapiness, a far fetched dream too idealistic to be realized! Marriage , or any other form of contracting, on the other hand, is the frame which imprisons love and makes it equivilent to "duty"!This is not an attempt to indict love or marriage; it is perhaps an egoistic way of saying i feel out of love right now! That's all.

This is a very good comment, critic.

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Can someone explain this?

In the Greek myth of Pandora, there are some who say that Hope, the one thing left after the troubles escaped, was the worst of all

Thanks for your mythical explanation, Johnny. Is my poem that terrible???

Can someone explain this?

If you're referring to the spamming about drugs, etc. Someone having fun at our expense. If you wish to dispense with it, e-mail Stephen, or Aaron and they will erase the posts.


Les

No, KQ, your poem is wonderful !

The reason given why hope was the worst of all, is that it sets one up for disappointment

And love can be very disappointing!

the full richness of love and passion becomes available to your readers as your poem names their padadoxes and complexities. there is no end to it.

Peter

Thanks all. I appreciate your words.

Peter, I agree to no end: a flux of a process!