
Forest Terminal, oil on canvas, 122x182cm, 2007, by Mike Worrall
solitary standing on a cross way,
time ticking… tick, tick, tick, ticking,
every trice, a misery, a perplexed
epiphany, figure out, surmise, comprehend,
swift, swifter, amid the railway tracks,
trains coming, but distant, somewhere
concealed in the haze, voices of which
permeating, in the pores of air,
signal- red and green, one halting over,
the other not meant, to be attained,
tick, tick, ticking, still ticking,
solitary standing, on a cross way,
undulating assertions within,
shouting out the names of locations,
of times, past and future, of truths
and lies, of decisions and indecisions,
of memories, forgotten and alive,
move on, moving on, comprehend,
to board or not, the destinations
impassive, they do not care,
shrouded in a black apparel,
to discover the ways to endure it all,
time ticking, ticking, gone,
still standing, statued, entombed
in the instance of that moment,
stagnant, eroding pole of life,
no more ticking, but standing,
bewildered, unknowing, stopped
in the parallels of time, the time gone by,
standing still, at the cross way, ceased in time
.
The Sunday challenge features paintings by Mike Worrall at Imaginary garden with real toads. This poem is written, inspiring from the painting, Forest Terminal.
I am tagging it as the post for 11 November for NaBloPoMo.
HA I reaLLY APPRECIATED THE CADENCES YOUR LANGUAGE SET UP. tHEY DROVE THE POEM FORWARD. i READ IT OUT LOUD AS i USUALLY DO WITH MOST POETRY AND IT WAS VERY GRAND–ALMOST gINSBURESQUE, OR wHITMAN. rEALLY A PLEASURE TO READ. >kb Excuse the capitals, my shift key got locked and I wasn’t aware of it until after. KB
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This stream of consciousness piece ravels and unravels the workings of a complex mind under pressure.
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The meter here is what works the poem, incessant, impatient, stuck, dissembling, always going back to zero and going round again. You climbed into the image so well!
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I agree the meter is flawless and internal rhyme and alliteration along with the tick, tick, ticking refrain works well.
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Wonderfull wording and imagery HA, I especially loved the way you concluded it.
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Your use of repetition and of meter is what makes the surreal feel of this picture, and the sentiments of which you write, come alive for the reader. Quite a trip–without leaving the farm,as we old hippies say.
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Is it the Green light that is never meant? I felt the painting multiply as your words sped up, a mix of images from the film Hugo and the artist Escher flew through my mind and as much as I HATE ticking, I gasped when it stopped. The word CEASE, perfect.
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I like the use of the time ticking ticking away ~ To not make a decision, to not moved in either direction, is also a decision is it not ~ Enjoyed your reflections HA ~
Thanks for playing with Real Toads Sunday Challenge ~ Good to see you 🙂
Grace
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So much inserted in the ticking of time….I’m standing there with all ‘green’ and ‘red’ on the crossroads of life…cool painting, music of words.
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You have delved into this absolutely amazing painting. The pulse of your words ~ as if I was on the train. Really good writing anmol.
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I like the abstract feeling that this poem carries throughout. Nicely written!
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This has the same errie, surreal feel as the paiting. Love it HA!
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Trippy surreality ….love it!
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I love this poem. It describes so well my inner thoughts. Wow.
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You captured the surrealism in your writing so well… like the brush painting the painting… awesome
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“stopped in the parallel of time”– awesome!
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BRILLIANTLY written!!! stunning!
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