I decided to fill the prompt by writing an unedited poem - the only things I
changed from the first draft were formatting and typos.
...You can tell that it really is unedited because even now, over a year
later, I want to remove the line 'Oh burgeoning soul' 😅
Oh burgeoning soul,
discount Taliesin whose brow isn’t
so shining
Write it
Write it all
Because the shine is yours, the fire, the words
Speak them to life in voiceless screams
Silent vocals in an empty room
resounding in spare brain cells as they go
Throw away, for now, the oozing behemoth of capitalism
it gets no say in this
This one isn’t about consumerism
If there’s an audience, let them hear the truth
unedited
raw
A truth that has not been written just for them
but for itself because there is no target demographic
for life
This one is not for some nameless faceless mass
this one is for each and every one
this one is for your calon lân, calon tân,
for the Awen burning in you.
This one is for the words that computers will
never
be able
to say.
Ancient words like caru and gwlad —
— a mother tongue ripped away and replaced with foreign diction
before a word was ever uttered
which nonetheless, you have made
poetry —
With the barbed barbarous Saxon tongue
— a foreign muscle married with Cymric bones —
you still speak with the passion and flame
of the dragon’s fire and brimstone
from a Chapel pulpit.
discount Taliesin whose brow isn’t
so shining
Write it
Write it all
Because the shine is yours, the fire, the words
Speak them to life in voiceless screams
Silent vocals in an empty room
resounding in spare brain cells as they go
Throw away, for now, the oozing behemoth of capitalism
it gets no say in this
This one isn’t about consumerism
If there’s an audience, let them hear the truth
unedited
raw
A truth that has not been written just for them
but for itself because there is no target demographic
for life
This one is not for some nameless faceless mass
this one is for each and every one
this one is for your calon lân, calon tân,
for the Awen burning in you.
This one is for the words that computers will
never
be able
to say.
Ancient words like caru and gwlad —
— a mother tongue ripped away and replaced with foreign diction
before a word was ever uttered
which nonetheless, you have made
poetry —
With the barbed barbarous Saxon tongue
— a foreign muscle married with Cymric bones —
you still speak with the passion and flame
of the dragon’s fire and brimstone
from a Chapel pulpit.
Wanna pay the poet?
You can buy me a coffee here.
So, whatcha think?
Talk to me! 😊💬
Previous Poetry Posts:
Sharing and commenting makes a difference for me + the blog! 😄
Wonderful poem, Cee!
ReplyDeleteThanks Em! :)
DeleteEu gostaria muito que você seguisse o meu blog. Lá só falta você. Obrigada. Feliz ano novo.
ReplyDeleteUm beijo.
Olá, falo um puco de português - and now I have to switch to English, lol. Obrigado for the comment! :)
Delete*pouco - still learning!
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeletePosted the reply as an extra comment by mistake! Oops!
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