Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose -
Meaning is lost in the striking of waves.
I do not know for the syllable grows.
What we need is silence, to expose,
To drown out the circling voice that raves -
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.
I do not presume to presuppose
Sounds concealed in the echoing caves:
I do not know for the syllable grows.
Disguised: word upon word are this word's clothes.
Dizzying spins the listener braves -
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.
Round, and round, and round, the syllable goes
Sound, upon sound - the sound enslaves.
I do not know, for the syllable grows.
Throughout the sound no gleam of meaning glows,
So without knowledge we spin to our graves -
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.
I do not know, for the syllable grows.
AR.
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Is this original reynolds? :P It's very very nice. I love the repetition. The whole piece reminds me a lot of eliot.
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It's interesting that it made you think of Eliot, as 'Rose is a Rose is a Rose is a Rose" is recycled from Gertrude Stein, in typical Eliot fashion. :)
ReplyDeleteI don't really write poetry, this is probably the first completed poem I've ever written. But I'll work on it.
It's in a form called 'Villanelle.'
I thought there'd been some recycling, hence the eliot. But the tone of the piece, and the word choice echoes him aswell.
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