The Poets – (anatomy of a rewrite)

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This poem, entitled “The Poets”, is a major rewrite inspired, over a decade later, by the original which I wrote in 1997, and which you will find following this piece…

• • • this comparative exercise was inspired by the blog “Totally Optional Prompts”

The Poets

•

damaged in their special ways
they like the path unclear
the route unmarked

fond of stumbling in
fumbling through
finding the way that’s theirs

engaged by the obtuse
the uneven
the asymmetric chord
they see grace and form
in brilliant imbalance

seduced by the clue
drawn to the fog
they seek the wonder
it withholds

where they long to go
is always round the bend
over the hill
behind the door

their ears prick
to the distant sound
that calls
just beyond clarity

to all these things
their souls are pulled

because

down the trail
in the mist
around the curve
over the crest
shut away

the clarion awaits

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

______________________________

Following is the original poem from which the poem above was born. It is essentially a different poem from above, but it was this poem that inspired the writing of the other — a re-write of a reflection on the poet’s essence…

• • • This poem you are about to read was initially inspired by Bill Moyers exceptional PBS TV special and the equally wonderful subsequent book, “The Language Of Life”…

The Poet

•

the poet’s eye is like our eye
yet it sees life’s un-shown
and reflects it for our sight

the poet’s ear is like our ear
but it senses life’s most quiet
to resound so we might hear

the poet’s tongue is like our tongue
yet it speaks what is not spoken
and becomes the voice of truth

the poet’s hand is like our hand
yet when it reaches out
what it touches is our soul

• • •

rob kistner © 1997

2 thoughts on “The Poets – (anatomy of a rewrite)

  1. They really are two different poems, aren’t they? I like the way the newer one wanders just slightly so that it comes at the subject from different angles – like poets!

  2. LOVE this –

    “down the trail
    in the mist
    around the curve
    over the crest
    shut away”

    And this –
    “he poet’s hand is like our hand
    yet when it reaches out
    what it touches is our soul”

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