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PART THE THIRD
Poetry bestrides the boundary
Between certainty and supposition
Between what I know to be true
And what I know not
For imagination conducts me into new worlds
Lands of hope
Of surmise and conjecture
Where speculation surmounts reality
Where inference and suggestion rule
And life is vibrant and ever vital
Ah ! interesting Roland, which is perhaps why many of us are compelled to write, derive comfort and pleasure from poetry and also gives a glimpse as to why many poets are troubled tragic souls. Maybe for some, behind those doors, in that borderland, lies something that renders reality ever lacking and when that borderland is closed to them they try gain entry by other means, thus stepping on to the downward spiral of self-destruction.
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Yes, Nigel. Much poetry does arise from hurt. From exploration of the damage we do and damage done to us. The poet, alone with their own search for a way to express and through that expression to find a form of healing for their hurt.
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Roland, I think the magic of writing, including poetry, enables us to merge these boundaries and to create our own worlds. There is a famous saying (although I have forgotten the author) where poetry is about provided a different slant on the world around us. It is interesting how science and art view the world differently. I think with art there is always another possibility. Thanks for your excellent poem which will have me thinking most of the day.
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… and thank you for your most perceptive response, Davy.
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I can’t invent stories, but I try to bring imagination to make my prose to some extent poetic
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… and I do remember your favoured colourful use of alliteration on occasion. Thanks for responding Derrick.
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A wonderful poem about poetry, Roland!
I think a lot of poets write out of their pain.
But, they also write to take themselves and others to places that are an escape…magical, peaceful, exciting, fun, ponderful, etc. 🙂
I love to write poems and read poems!
(((HUGS)))
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I thank you for your wise words, Carolyn.
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