A million words, a million thoughts, We've all been here writing till the end of time. What new ones may have been brought? It's all I can think of, did something happen? Am I still original or am I out of line?
"Soon-to-be-victorious" you start the song, A dirge of memories past, till the very last. The rhythm sounds like 'other time folk music,' Played to an *****-like effect, I guess you would be able to out-do my Eccentric best.
Keep playing that well worn traditional back-days song! You know I was here to **** you down all along...
I was a visitor to the Owl House Nieu-Bethesda South Africa in 2015. Approximately, one year later I was inspired to write a poem about the late great Helen Martins. I was intrigued by the eccentricity of this woman.
One evening while in my living room and enjoying a glass of wine, my eye caught the cement owl in my windowsill which I had purchased outside the Owl House from a vendor. I saw its big blue glass eyes glaring at me. At the time I was listening to a Jennifer Ferguson record, and decided to write while the music was playing. Once I had completed the poem I felt exhausted. Then a very strange phenomena occurred, the lights went off for a few seconds and came back on, unlike a power surge. It reoccurred a second time that same evening, and never since. It felt like a supernatural intervention. As far fetched as it may sound, it seemed like Mrs. Martins had personally given her approval of the poem. I then decided to email it to the official Owl House website. I didn't think much would come of it. However, they embraced the poem and were generous enough to display it on their official Website for a number of years under a section titled "A Visitor's Perspective".
No. That’s all i need to say to make something stop Why care for the things that once mattered in the past When the ones that mattered in the past didn’t come to last Honestly, it ***** to **** We live this life with no breaks nor shortcuts Suicide is simply an illogical solution Doing so would diminish my own resolution I’m growing tired and brittle I may not be old but i’m hollow No, not to be edgy in any matter I wouldn’t care if you went and bantar If you view me having the lack to emotion Somewhat of a form of entertainment I wouldn’t blame you I invite you to do it Know that I’ll give no reinvigoration For your own amusement.
Thud-thud-thud thud thud-thud Me and my silver owl glasses And the silver car with the broken hood from when I ram ram Ramed into the light grey garage and the pale Blue fire hydrant And now it goes thud-thud-thud Thud thud-thud And me and my owl glasses Squint up at the sky while the car goes thud-thud Thud thud-thud And my skin basking in the sun’s glow, Rudolph’s luck it was only his nose! And with a little jingle, Time to take the baked potato out Bright red and ready to peel, Leaving behind an ugly little thing, In her silver owl glasses and thud-thud silver Car With the dented hood
Him: She looked different, I hadn’t seen her face this bright in a really long time. In that moment she was the moon, the star, a luminous soul that stood before my eyes. She was like confetti, leaving sparkles where she stepped. It wasn’t like the happiness she plastered on her face or the smile that made dimples appear on the ends of her lips. This was different. I could feel the energy. Her cheeks swallowed her eyes whole and those hidden teeth behind her lips were exposed. It was just everything about her, how her voice was powerful and high-pitched just like a youngster. The way her pupils dilated and showed all her excitement. The way her soul radiated excitement and joy. It was everything about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she laughed. Happiness made her feel like she could do anything. Happiness was more than just beautiful on her. It was luminous and powerful.
Her: This happiness felt ineffable. It was more than just a star lighting up in the dark, it was more than the darkness fading away. It wasn’t the happiness that is supposed to be picture perfect or the commercially perfect of having pearly white teeth. It was the one that my soul roar and bursting away from the confinement. It was the happiness that made adrenaline rush through my veins and neurons spark every cell of mine. It was the happiness that made me not care about what others thought, whether I was too much or over-excited. I was happy, I was more than happy after a very long time. It didn’t matter to me. I felt fierce. I felt like a child. I felt everything beautiful and powerful. I didn’t want to lose it to others words or to anything in this world. I was going to protect it, guard it and hold on to it. I was going to shine and radiate.
A long time ago A time quite known There was a man Who was seeking the truth Who's wish was to understand The path drawn by the hand The way of the wandering
He wished Hence his truth Stained Circles he thought Was what the hand would draw All wandering quite agreed But one did not He was defiant Back he went Forth later Lunacy was inherent The way he tread The hand the man doubted Had but made a mistake A mistake Or just a perspective Shall remain unknown A circle Eccentric Was defined Two centers It had Perplexed our man Circles he thought Defined perfection
Had it not been this wanderer Who chose to defy
Our man He would have been kept Away From the truth
The truth That eccentric Are the paths That all who wander Follow Its only the perspective That defines the lunacy The eccentricity The path of the wanderer.
The hand Could have made a mistake But who knows He too might have been Eccentric At least a little bit.
The poem is about Kepler's quest to understand planetary orbits, which he thought should be circular. The to and fro movement of mars (also loop the loop motion) didn't fit the hypothesis of circular orbits. In the end he had to abandon his idea of circles to ellipses, which fit the anomalous movement of mars perfectly.