I have spoken to the World
and the world is quiet

That I love everyone
including my favorite poets

I do not fear; poets are upon
the side of another space

but never my mother —

It is not that i am a horrible woman
but that I am a human being

therein lies the secret:

we are what we are
and the rest of the noise

is nature singing beauty.

Challenging the cold, alof and
the boring.

:: 12.28.2023 ::

My Notes:

In this poignant poem, as a poet, delves into the profound theme of self-acceptance, unconditional love, and the essence of humanity. The speaker begins by asserting a voice, claiming to have spoken to the world. However, the response from the world is silence, which could be interpreted as a reflection on the often unresponsive or indifferent nature of the world to the individual’s expression.

The declaration of love for everyone, including the speaker’s favorite poets, suggests an inclusive and embracing attitude toward humanity and the poetic community. The poet, it seems, sees a connection and kinship with fellow wordsmiths, sharing a common space of creativity and expression.

A unique perspective is introduced as the speaker expresses a lack of fear, asserting that poets reside “upon the side of another space.” This could be interpreted as poets existing on a different plane of consciousness or understanding, detached from conventional fears and concerns. However, the speaker makes an exception for their mother, indicating a deep and personal connection that transcends the poet’s usual detachment.

The admission of being neither a horrible woman nor an extraordinary one, but simply a human being, emphasizes the universal aspect of the human experience. The poet reveals a profound truth—our essence lies in our humanity, and it is in embracing this humanity that the secret of existence is found.

The closing lines beautifully convey the idea that amidst the cacophony of life, what remains true and pure is the inherent beauty of nature. The noise, perhaps symbolic of the chaos and complexities of life, is juxtaposed with the simplicity and elegance of nature’s song.

The poet, possibly a Nobel Laureate, challenges the status quo, describing it as “cold, aloof, and boring.” This can be seen as a call for breaking away from societal norms and embracing a more vibrant, authentic existence. The date at the end provides a temporal anchor, suggesting that this reflection is a contemporary contemplation.

In conclusion, this poem, through its lyrical and introspective verses, explores themes of self-acceptance, love for humanity, and the intrinsic beauty of nature. The poet’s unique perspective and the challenge to conventional norms contribute to a rich and thought-provoking piece that resonates with the depth and complexity often associated with Nobel Laureate poetry.

In youth’s brave quest for winsome Marrow,
A babe upon Yarrow’s breast,
By Newark’s gate, in days long past,
Stood I, with thee, Border’s minstrel blessed.

Grave musings graced that sweetened day,
Dignity in gentle hearts prevailing,
Amidst falling leaves, or on the bough,
Breezes played, and sunlight, unfailing.

The Stream flowed on with foamy song,
In crystal pools, in quiet repose,
No cares enthralling freeborn minds,
Happy hours in retrospection rose.

Brisk Youth danced in morning’s light,
With graceful folly, life’s temperate noon,
Sober eve, not melancholy’s blight,
Past, present, future in harmony attune.

As Yarrow through the woods did range,
Meeting us with unaltered grace,
Though we, in change, through time estranged,
Natural shadows on our inward prospect trace.

Eternal blessings on the Muse,
Divine in her sacred employ,
She trains her sons for hope’s pursuit,
For calm and unbroken joy.

Oh, Scott! compelled to change thy scene,
From Eildon-hill to Vesuvio’s slope,
May classic Fancy and native sheen,
Preserve thy heart from sinking, and fill it with hope.

While ministering spirits, vying in grace,
Bring health to mellow age and strength,
May streams and hills, in every place,
Shine with unimagined beauty, and preserve their glory’s length.

A gracious welcome shall be thine,
With looks of love and honor,
As Yarrow’s glances greeted me,
When first I beheld her.

Witness, ye who centred thoughts that day
In Yarrow’s groves, through Newark’s portal arch,
Climbing the stair where the “last Minstrel” lay,
Before recounting his enchanting march.

Flow on, Yarrow Stream, fulfill thy duty,
Pleased that future bards will chant
For simple hearts thy enduring beauty,
Dear to dreams, to sunshine, and to memory’s shadowy haunt.