Celebration



Cartwheel me in hoops, the boy upon the grass
His heart a kaleidoscope of sun
Joy poured into fractals of meaning, the pass
And present in one future serene as moon.
The stars like minstrels play
Our destiny like a skein entangled in life's twine
Better dryads lighthearted in their trees
Better than passion red poincianna dancing for each breeze
From flower to flower I envy no bee nor butterfly
I take my nectar from a single source
Love delicious as a cataract, and the night long festivity
Of the twirling room and the breasts like cymbals
In the orchestra, laden with honey and song
We share, and share, and share till cockcrow
Morning naked in my arms, throbbing like a sea
Lapping at the foot of sands, rocks, moon, god
O how much more beautiful can love be
Her silken form like cotten where my fingers wake
Quivering deep into the cavern of memory
She is more beautiful than all temples of gold
For I in new consecration
Am held in a cup of rainbow whispering through trees
You cannot imagine how incandescent my mind becomes
How alight with words, I am the flambeau of her tongue
Soul in soul the morning breaking
As we unfold like leaves ready for the first prayer.
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Submitted on July 05, 2013

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:04 min read
1

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABACDEFFGHIJKLIMINIOBFPQRL
Closest metre Iambic hexameter
Characters 1,151
Words 214
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 26

David Smalling

I have been writing poems since I was 12 years; but writing had been my blanket for loneliness since age 11. My father died when I was 13 and poetry was my therapy for pain since then. Only I wanted the world to think, feel, laugh, but not cry. I had been forgotten in the grief of my father's death because everyone else needed the consolation I did not get. I became the even more the withdrawn loner, and saw a world more aggressively hostile. Books became my better friend and drove me deeper into academic seclusion. I wrote thousands of poems everywhere: on rocks, trees, sand, and all over house and school - this was how I interrogate the world, and how I weep alone. Poetry was my quest and comfort. I trusted paper and pen and spoke my truths to them above all else. Yes, I am graduate, a business major, a science major, an humanities major ... still searching for consolation, love, security, and joy obtained in poetry. Then again Jamaica is such an ideal place to live as a poet; the history and memories, juxtaposed against the world, is pure inspiration. more…

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