We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

1.4.24

The Cage


The cage of time

shrinks as you grow,

your years expanding 

to fill it, so the walls 

more and more close in.


The one window 

is obscured by a blind.

What little view you have

is dim, shadowy, limited,

the larger vista unknown.


Young, you breathe deep,

feel yourself spread

like the branches of a cedar

yet with room to spare,

unaware of restraining walls.


Your current reality

pierces ike a sword.

You almost decide 

to impale yourself on it …

but then you pause.


From the corner of your eye

you glimpse a jester 

playing a flute: a song 

which hints that time 

is more fluid than you knew.


What if, after all,

the walls are frail, soft,

not fixed? What if, when

you step through, you find

that time is an ocean?



[Also see revised version]


It's April again! Poetry month! Time for NaPoWriMo. Over the years I've followed various prompts, often those at Poetic Asides. This year Rajanai at her Thoughtpurge blog has come up with a list very pertinent to the current alarming state of the world, for those of us who are moved to protest and/or bear witness.

However, for the first time ever, this year I've decided to go with the prompts at the Na/GloPoWriMo website.  (They call it National/Global Poetry Month, in recognition of the fact that, thanks to the internet, it long ago stopped being restricted to the the USA.) They very thoughtfully begin with an early bird prompt for those of us whose country hits April 1st earlier than others.  We're invited to choose one from the list below and title the poem 'A ...' or 'The ... ' followed by the chosen word. I've done that, but I've also gone a bit smart-arse to use every listed word in the poem, just for the heck of it. (Poetry is play!)

  • Cage
  • Ocean
  • Time
  • Cedar
  • Window
  • Sword
  • Flute
I'm also, a little belatedly, doing the Poem A Day prompts at Poetic Asides 'secretly at home,' as Robert says we may.  The first prompt is to write an optimistic poem. This one ends on an optimistic note, so I won't write a new one for Day One.

AND I'm sharing this with Poets and Storytellers United at Friday Writings #121: Youth is Nature, Age is Art. This piece isn't quite on prompt, but comes close-ish, contrasting the mind-set of youth and age.   



31 comments:

  1. Good to see you here.... Used all the words as well....must be an Aussie thing !:) Stepping out into the great unknown.....it will all be revealed soon enough....I like your speculative theories.....Rall

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  2. What if, when / you step through, you find / that time is an ocean? - I cannot swim, but if it is not linear (which I want to believe), just a sea of moments, I know one point I'd like to go back to..... what if....!!!!!

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    1. Ah, you take my speculation and build on it. *Smile.*

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  3. Thanks for the mention of the prompts... It's only the fifth, April feels like it has a hundred days!! :)

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    1. You're welcome! I plan to come and have a look at the resulting poems, but not quite sure when; April does get busy!

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  4. "the larger vista unknown" - oh, how true that is!

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  5. Excellent poem - Especially love the line "a jester playing a flute: a song " It sometimes does feel exactly like that, - Great work

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  6. Indeed very smartass :) very cleverly done My favourite the 3rd and especially the last stanza 'What if, when you step through, you find that time is an ocean?
    Great and yes I do think it is

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  7. You fit within the set parameters compellingly. Time/space is a cage of sorts but at the "corner of one's eye" there is a glint of much, much more beyond.

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  8. I love this. Time is an ocean. It ebbs and flows. The jester turned it all around.

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  9. Sounds like Macular Degeneration? My dad had that for the last six of his 97 years. Saw out the corner of his eyes, went to Assisted Living when he couldn't drive anymore. You reminded me, I must make an appointment this afternoon, time for our six month eye appointments.
    ..

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    1. I do hope it's not that! My optometrist found no sign of that at my last test a few months ago, even though these symptoms, which are seasona eacvh yeal, flared up son afterwards. All the signs point to an allergy to something that grows around here, something fairly widespread (perhaps one of the wild grasses) but not everywhere, as in some areas it conistently eases off while in others it is consistently troublesome.

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    2. *seasonal each year *soon afterwards

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  10. I see from my own experience how time shrinks the cage of age and not just because there is less left. It restricts in other ways but opens up other vistas. I like this positive take.

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  11. I want time to be an ocean, one unspoiled by human disregard, a fluid place of serenity and storms that keeps the soul swimming in balance.

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  12. I appreciate the move from cage to ocean.

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  13. Poetry at its very best when it resonates deeply with the reader .. Brava! Questions you pose in the final stanza .. the 'what if's' .. thank you for asking.
    The cage of age, the folly of youth .. I often find myself replaying youthful, mistake-ridden scenarios in my mind. I have friends who say 'leave them in the past' ~ I have trouble doing that. I am who I am.

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    1. Yes, our mistakes are part of us too. They can be very useful, or have redeeming features, but in any case form part of our rich history.

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  14. Thank you Dear Rosemary-the theme list disturbs all writers but they must keep writing for peace.

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  15. "Young, you breathe deep,

    feel yourself spread

    like the branches of a cedar

    yet with room to spare,

    unaware of restraining walls."

    Fabulous poem, Rosemary. Hope you are right about the ocean!

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