Saturday, 15 May 2021

Here I Rest My All - Gedartes

 I included this poem in my book as a response to your poem. Some folks got curious about you and margarete so i showed your book and read your interview online.


I wrote this poem as an antiphon to your poem at the religious congress in Anaheim. It was raining that night.

So first i read tennyson to my family

Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower—but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.
Ged sent Yesterday at 20:43
Then your poem
Ged sent Yesterday at 20:43
I read neruda
Ged sent Yesterday at 20:43
Then your poems

Then i showed them the paintings of kandinsky😂😂😂 and had some comparative amateur analysis with some of your poems.

You know what. This world this time is different. I don’t think I’m crazy to say your writing is far superior than the usuals. I personally admire your works more than Nerudas. I love Neruda but sounds cheesy when I translate his poems in Filipino—it’s like watching a telenovela.😂🤣

Ged sent Yesterday at 21:20

Subjective yes one may say but hey it’s a matter of aesthetic sense.

That can happen again and again; but who can argue with the finished work? Looking back at the lives of the greats who weren’t widely acknowledged in their time, you begin to think what’s for the masses. Should I give in and compromise the language? When Beethoven was asked why symphony no.7 is more famous than the 8th, Beethoven said because 8th is better. Don’t know if that is true but same goes with other artists—in music arts literature etc.

You sent Yesterday at 21:26


Ged sent Yesterday at 21:28

When I read your book I thought I was in a time machine or inside an old camera.
Ged sent Yesterday at 21:28
A different lens



HERE I REST MY ALL
-Gedartes

Here I rest my all
in some bread
across the sacred;
in some solitudes passing
through your skin.

Here I rest my heart in midnight rain
as you fall asleep;
your dreams- my songs
in ripples and sloping winds;
your arms- a flock of sheep;
unfenced;
like mists in the landscape,
like landscapes in the mist;
and your eyes closed,
and I remain
dripping- a phrase
of shutters and gutters.

Consider this as a prayer,
if you must,
and I will end it
with a dance.

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