Solitary

[theswelter]

Hi Loretta,
Thanks for sharing this beautiful poem. My take away feeling is that I would like more specificity, it feels dreamy and swirling, but I would like it to also be grounded in details, whether metaphorical or real. Also, "a myriad of", I believe the word myriad is improperly used here. Shouldn't it be "myriad dreams"?

Free in Solitary

I'm free, in solitary confines.
My body is stationary, but mind defined.
I steal my solace from distress.
Casting free this suit of flesh,
I encounter an alter-consciousness
Tiny atoms whisper rhymes
of merry play and ringing chimes.
I'm bent across the sill of possibility
floating aimlessly and free.

Time now, my friend, not foe.
And I clutch it to my heart
to make it so: with force of fury
bent upon my soul and mind.
Sweet dreams, where urgent passions show
two faces of this confine grow;
shades of loneliness and excitement
lighting distant paths to know,
a wealth of visions, those paths aglow.

A myriad of dreams engage
and float upon a crystal sea;
as does the swan so gracefully
leave behind his traces aimlessly.
As I, free in solitary confines
float with open curiosity.
I leave behind my traces aimlessly
for some poor fool to follow me.


Original version (Lost to solitary confines)

Ah, lost to solitary confines.
My body stationary,
but mind defined.
I steal my solace from distress
and earthly limits, with joy reject.
Casting free this shell of flesh
I encounter my alter-universe.
Tiny atoms whisper rhymes
of merry play and singing chimes.

Memory: the spirits whisper,
is stolen destiny prophesied
long ago. A withered finger points
a way I do not know;
winding roads to wend
to slip and bend.
Then rugged mountains
white with snow to climb, I'm
bent across the sill of possibility
floating aimlessly nd free

Time now m friend, not woe,
and that I clutch it to my heart
to make it so, with force of fury
bent upon my soul and mind;
the glory if it be, I seek to find.
Sweet dreams where urgent passions know
love sought in every face aglow;
two faces of this confine grow
which cast bot shades of loneliness
and excitement,
lighting paths to know
that destiny which beckons me.

A myriad o dreams engage
and float upon a crystal sea
as does the swan so gracefully
leave behine his traces aimlessly.

As I, lost in solitary confines
float with open curiosity
I leave behind my traces aimlessly
for some poor fool to follow me.

---

Hi Loretta,
Thanks for sharing this beautiful poem. My take away feeling is that I would like more specificity, it feels dreamy and swirling, but I would like it to also be grounded in details, whether metaphorical or real. Also, "a myriad of", I believe the word myriad is improperly used here. Shouldn't it be "myriad dreams"?

Free in Solitary

I'm free, in solitary confines.
My body is stationary, but mind defined.
I steal my solace from distress.
Casting free this suit of flesh,
I encounter an alter-consciousness
Tiny atoms whisper rhymes
of merry play and ringing chimes.
I'm bent across the sill of possibility
floating aimlessly and free.

Time now, my friend, not foe.
And I clutch it to my heart
to make it so: with force of fury
bent upon my soul and mind.
Sweet dreams, where urgent passions show
two faces of this confine grow;
shades of loneliness and excitement
lighting distant paths to know,
a wealth of visions, those paths aglow.

A myriad of dreams engage
and float upon a crystal sea;
as does the swan so gracefully
leave behind his traces aimlessly.
As I, free in solitary confines
float with open curiosity.
I leave behind my traces aimlessly
for some poor fool to follow me.


Original version (Lost to solitary confines)

Ah, lost to solitary confines.
My body stationary,
but mind defined.
I steal my solace from distress
and earthly limits, with joy reject.
Casting free this shell of flesh
I encounter my alter-universe.
Tiny atoms whisper rhymes
of merry play and singing chimes.

Memory: the spirits whisper,
is stolen destiny prophesied
long ago. A withered finger points
a way I do not know;
winding roads to wend
to slip and bend.
Then rugged mountains
white with snow to climb, I'm
bent across the sill of possibility
floating aimlessly nd free

Time now m friend, not woe,
and that I clutch it to my heart
to make it so, with force of fury
bent upon my soul and mind;
the glory if it be, I seek to find.
Sweet dreams where urgent passions know
love sought in every face aglow;
two faces of this confine grow
which cast bot shades of loneliness
and excitement,
lighting paths to know
that destiny which beckons me.

A myriad o dreams engage
and float upon a crystal sea
as does the swan so gracefully
leave behine his traces aimlessly.

As I, lost in solitary confines
float with open curiosity
I leave behind my traces aimlessly
for some poor fool to follow me.