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Nick Moore Feb 2013
Words came from up above
fill my heart with so much love

If you could see behind my eye's
you would know
why angel's smile

I think the light is coming back
dot's of white inside the black

I think the light is coming back
dot's of white inside the black
In the teardropped dew of golden hour
as dusk-sun dips below the edge,
an angel of bronze upon a stone bower
keeps watch as nighttime’s fingers stretch.

Across the spans of painted sky,
one by one bright sparks appear:
constellations form as portraits high,
a hunter, two bears, points on the sphere.

These starry creatures connect the dots,
parade across the firmament
and crown the angel deep in thought,
twelve stars, a wreathed encirclement.

The hunter wheels around the dome
of charcoal sky. His thrice-jeweled belt
shines out to mark him as he still roams
in pursuit of where scorpions dwelt.

Above him run two starry bears,
one’s tail-tip pointing to the north.
Though he lays his trapper‘s snares
the scorpion always hurries forth.

The angel watches the hunt go on
as it’s been since this our rock was made.
She hums her part in creation’s song
that set it all turning on time’s old lathe.

There in the shade by moonlight cast,
this angel smiles at the pageantry
of starry figures marching past
to mark her maker’s majesty.
I always loved to stargaze as a kid and was fortunate to live in an area where there was little light pollution. My elementary school even had its own observatory (built and later donated by a local resident).
This was partly inspired by an angel statue I saw at dusk, which reminded me of stargazing.
I cannot believe
she is not,
at all,
an angel.
Analysis of “About Woman”

Theme:

The poem reflects on the idealization of women, blending admiration and disbelief. It presents the speaker’s refusal to accept that a woman could be anything less than angelic, elevating her to a near-divine status. The theme explores the tension between reality and idealization, encapsulating the human tendency to see perfection in what is loved.

Tone and Structure:

The tone is respectful, reflective, and quietly emphatic. Its brevity and minimal structure emphasize the depth of the speaker’s sentiment, distilling complex emotions into a few impactful words. The lack of embellishment mirrors the purity of the admiration expressed.

Imagery and Meaning:

“I cannot believe “: This line conveys the speaker’s internal struggle, suggesting denial and hope as if rejecting any notion that contradicts their ideal.
“She is not, at all, an angel”: The central metaphor equates the woman with an angel, symbolizing perfection, purity, and otherworldly grace. The negation adds dramatic tension, intensifying the speaker’s conviction.
The absence of detailed imagery allows the reader to project their interpretation of the angelic qualities being attributed.

Message:

The poem suggests that admiration, especially for a woman, can elevate her to an almost mythical status. It highlights the emotional tendency to idealize, focusing on the speaker’s unshakable belief in the woman’s goodness and transcendence.

Conclusion:

“About Woman” is a minimalist yet profound meditation on love and idealization. Its simplicity invites readers to reflect on how they perceive and elevate those they admire, while its open-ended nature leaves space for personal interpretation. The poem’s brevity amplifies its emotional resonance, making it intimate and universal.
Man Nov 18
If she were a celestial,
And I among constellations -
Then she would be the sun,
And I the moon.
Then I would be a star,
And her a heavenly angel.
Then I would beam brightly
At the mere presence of her.
Whenever needed,
Never receded
Neither eclipsed,
The light shone would be ours together
No matter the luminous object.
From the pledge of our marriage
There is a beauty so rapturous
In a love bathed to our family,
Fellow friends & strangers
To whom too are showered
In light of our joy & happiness.
Valentin Eni Nov 15
No,
the poet is not always
the bringer of light!
he can also bring
darkness, hatred, and pain.
he can sing of evil and ugliness.
the poet knows how to squeeze out tears
and smear blood into your eyes.
from his nails, claws can grow
and from his teeth, fangs.
on his forehead, horns he could place
if ever needed.
No,
the poet is not necessarily
dressed in white garments.
he can pass through naked
and laugh madly in hysterics!
and if you strike him,
he will not always
turn the other cheek.
No,
the poet is no angel!
he is a wound—always bleeding—
on the sick heart of the World
and the sleepless eye on Its forehead,
the unforeseen eye.
This poem was originally written in Romanian.

Analysis of "No! The Poet"

Theme:
The poem challenges romanticized notions of poets as solely virtuous and enlightened figures, presenting a darker, multifaceted portrayal instead. The poet becomes a vessel for light and shadow, capable of evoking beauty and ugliness, healing and harm. This duality emphasizes the raw and unpredictable power of art and the humanity of its creator.

Tone and Structure:
The tone is defiant and provocative, confronting the reader’s expectations with stark negations. The repeated "No" asserts the rejection of traditional archetypes and sets the poem’s rhythm. The structure, with its free verse and escalating intensity, mirrors the chaotic, untamed energy of the poet described within.

Imagery and Meaning:

The Poet as a Creator of Duality:

"The poet is not always the bringer of light! / he can also bring darkness, hatred, and pain."
The poet is portrayed as a figure who embodies and expresses the full spectrum of human experience unbound by societal ideals of purity or enlightenment.
This duality challenges the reader to see poetry as more than a tool for comfort or beauty.

Violent and Monstrous Metaphors:

"From his nails, claws can grow / and from his teeth, fangs. / On his forehead, horns he could place."
The poet is likened to a beast or demon, underscoring creativity's primal, untamed nature. Poetry here is not sanitized but raw and visceral.
These images emphasize that poets may disturb or unsettle as much as they inspire.

Human Vulnerability:

"He is a wound—always bleeding— / on the sick heart of the World."
The poet is presented as deeply empathetic, absorbing and reflecting the world’s pain.
This wound symbolizes the poet's role as a witness and participant in humanity’s suffering.

The Unforeseen Eye:

"The sleepless eye on Its forehead, / the unforeseen eye."
The poet becomes a seer, perceiving and revealing truths that others cannot or will not see.
This suggests a sense of duty or burden, as the poet remains ever-watchful and aware.

Message:
The poem asserts that poets are not merely idealistic figures of inspiration but complex beings who confront the full spectrum of life’s darkness and light. They wield their art as both a weapon and a balm, embodying truth's chaotic, painful, and transformative power. The poet’s role is to provoke, unsettle, and challenge while carrying the weight of the world’s wounds.

Conclusion:
"No! The Poet" is a bold and courageous portrayal of the poet as a figure of duality—creator and destroyer, angel and beast, healer and wound. By rejecting conventional expectations, the poem forces readers to reconsider the nature of art and its creators, emphasizing the poet's raw humanity and limitless potential. It is a celebration of poetry’s ability to confront the sublime and the grotesque, offering a vision of art as both a mirror and a force of transformation.
Valentin Eni Nov 15
I feel
an angel’s touch, so soft, so near,
a mountain crumbles,
its roar I hear.

I see
the shadows carved by lightning’s glow,
the light of a seed
in the earth below.

I hear
the silence stretched across the years,
curses rising from the graves
through tears.

I believe
in the stain of a demon’s dark embrace,
in the power of words
to claim their space.

I know
who will bear the weight my cross demands,
why the world bleeds
through trembling hands.

I feel
the steps that lead me closer to my breath’s last bend,
the touch of an angel
before the end.

*

I Feel
(Alternative translation I)

I feel
an angel's touch upon my skin
I feel once more
a mountain crashing, tumbling in

I see
the shadows lightning leaves behind
I see anew
the light within a seed confined

I hear
the silences an age has kept
I hear again
the curses rising from the crypt

I trust
the foulness that a demon breeds
I trust still more
the power that resides in deeds

I know
who'll bear the cross that's meant for me
I know as well
why bleeds the heart of all we see

I feel
how many steps till death I tread
I feel once more
an angel's touch upon my head
(Originally written in Romanian.) The poem engages all the senses to convey a feeling of transcendence and existential struggle. The contrast between life and death, light and darkness, is a central motif.
This poem presents a journey of awareness, moving between sensory experiences and spiritual reflections. The angel at the beginning and end bookends the work with a spiritual framework, suggesting a reliance on faith amidst the chaotic contrasts of existence. The use of sensory verbs ("feel," "see," "hear") is immersive, pulling the reader into the speaker's evolving realization of mortality and existence.
Àŧùl Nov 13
As I lay in the comatose state,
My Angel cried profusely.
Unknown to others, He cried.
And His tears fell on my body,
They healed my wounds.
My Angel is my Prabhu.
My Angel is my Father.
My HP Poem #2026
©Atul Kaushal
I am waiting on an angel.
I’ve paced around in wait
and feel no closer to when I first started
pacing.
no call, no signs of anything that smells like perfume.
she promised she'd be here.
maybe she's stuck in traffic,
or maybe she's the kind of angel
that doesn’t keep promises.

the last time I prayed I asked for a roof
over my head.
it took a while. it took an awfully long time.
my hands were shaking.
just when I was about to give up.
I got my house.
I have that same feeling.
god knows that I am waiting,
no matter how bad my hands are shaking.

still, I wait.
I don’t know how wings feel against skin,
or how soft they are,
but somehow, I believe she is near.
if she is not.
I do believe that something beautiful is possible.
even if angels have a sense of humor
kokoro Nov 9
I wonder if I have been in anyone else's prayers.
I wonder if someone else has prayed every single day about me.
I wonder if an angel number has ever been about me,
wishing that they could have a chance with me,
just like i wished for a chance with him.
Flowerhead Nov 6
When you unfurled your wings,
A draft took you out of view.
Within the cools of these capes,
I still hear echoes of you.

How can you be love,
When loss is all, you’ve known.
My shadow crawls across your grave,
When will I learn to carry on?

In the cradle of earth,
Your skeleton will always smile.
At least you found your solace,
I hope death is treating you well.

You’re gone,
But somewhere else.
Within these thoughts,
I hold you close.

Now rest my dear…
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