Obscure

Mental Health, Random poetry, Relationships Add comments

Hello, friends!

It has been a weekend of tangled emotions and a particularly untidy house.

Today I have been reflecting a little on life and death, as I’ve helped our eldest compile the last of his Pharaoh Factfile.  It is infinitely bizarre to me that people from thousands of years ago have managed to preserve the bodies of their kings. I spent a morbid amount of time looking at the photographed shrivelled remains of the 90 year old Ramses II. 

I don’t remember doing this topic until Primary 7, is it right that I am letting a gruesome picture be stuck onto my six year old’s homework?!  I’ve not even seen a close relative’s body after death.  I feel like some sort of voyeur. 

Oddly, I was reminded of Larkin’s lines in Arundel Tomb:

And up the paths
The endless altered people came,
Washing at their identity.

From Random Word Generator

Which alludes to a monument from a different period entirely!  I do find something disrespectful in ogling these displaced humans, plucked from their time and thrust into ours.  Much like the poor people immortalised in Pompeii.  It makes me feel too much.

[I would have thought Shelley’s Ozymandias would have been the first poem my brain would go for, I almost felt apologetic when it didn’t! But, according to the notes in the link I found, Larkin was writing about something he’d seen in Chichester Cathedral…so obviously my subconscious was still playing with historic random words?! (Remember this?)]

Anyway, yes, I’ve been in a strange dimension a bit this weekend.  The following came out after reading today’s words:

 

Series  Node  Drop  Disagree  Measure  Picture  Agent  Obscure  Articulate

As a series of obscenities

Whizzed past my earlobes,

I could feel the carpet

Acquiring another large node.

When his volume finally

Started to drop, I agreed

To disagree;

Threw in a hug for good measure.

(His face was a picture)

 

In this life, I seem

Like the agent of angels:

Bringing light to the obscure stuff

Some have no words to articulate.

(But only sometimes.

Other days I swear that the

Morning Star itself shines forth from me.

And so, beware!  One day I’ll fall,

And cast dark shadows)

 

Notebook page

So yeah, I’d say I was the opposite to a mighty king, wishing to have his form preserved and carried into the future.  I don’t want anyone looking upon my face any longer than they have to!  I really do have a worry that there are toxic forces at work in me that may take people out if I lose my concentration, and so when I’m dead I want shut away forever 😉

I would like to think my creative works might outlive me, however.  I have a hope that they’ll go on entertaining people, helping them delve into feelings and sort out how they feel a bit.  I love when people respond to my work and tell me how they interpreted it.  It’s easier to get the best parts of me through the written word.

It would be nice to leave some hugs for future generations in the pages of a book 🙂

 

 

Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

 

Leave a Reply