July 18th 2019

July 18, 2019
Morning queued itself as an epic poem. The muses serenaded with poetic whim. I feel so grateful to God—Jehovah for giving me a blessed life.

While reading the gospel: I came across the incident where the disciples were on a boat and then the tempests raged. Then they cried out to Jesus: Master Save us. Then Jesus walked on water and calmed the storm. He said to them: you are of little faith. Little Faith as an idiom means having not having the faith and innocent trust in God. Even though I am a believer, sometimes I am of little faith.

I am very fond of the Romantic Movement. Wordsworth defines it as the spontaneous overflow of feeling. It means implanting a rich plethora into animate and inanimate things. I am forced to live a life of romantic ecstasy. Yes in romanticism brooks murmur, rivers flow in speech, the mountain breathes a passion, thunder roars in anger, poets float in the sky, waves frolic in passion, winds kiss in noisy breath, lovers pour passion on the bed and so on.

I am also fascinated by Ezra Pound’s imagism. Pound has defined Imagism as an ‘intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time’. Poems transform themselves into profound images. Let’s look at some examples. Morning wore a doctor’s stethoscope. He lay on the bed covered with maggots. Gray christened into a loud shout. Poems wore images of dusk. Passions raged from the ring of fire. Romance sung a duet in the sky. His anger was as cloudy as the sky. Beautiful poems blossomed in the garden. The landscape lay trembling with an echo. Stones breathe in whispers. The lovers kissed like a musical garden. The tomb was covered with desolate grass. Beauty, you are the charm of the soul. Poetry is a rich tapestry of meaning. Ecstasy is a ripe fruit. Dogs do omen howls. Peace is a dove released from the earth. The seed is meaning of life and the fruit the rich harvest of life. The spring mimics a metaphor. Irony is an empty wallet. Sounds bark, and colors grimace. I am not impressed with your metallic phrases. The mountains are chanting fire.

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