Amygdala's Curse Poem by Seamus O' Brian
Amygdala's Curse
Words of poetry tumble,
more like tears clumsily
splashing the ground
from the siphoning of my heart
than some human imitation of art;
at times they rise
like the ovation of my soul
against the curtain of dawn,
or flutter prismatically in that breeze
which ushers chaos through the carnival midway,
the memories of what was,
and what was only imagined.
Stooping to lift each word
to the light of the static moon,
fumbling it into my pocket
if it once belonged to you.
Words that probe
the ligatures of pain
strung across the canyon abyss
of what I once, with a laugh,
called love, now torn
like a worn page
of humanity's opus clenched
into a crumpled ball, worm-holed
by the quantum flux
of my cerebral denial,
arching its pain over
the ring of amygdala's curse,
the heart is broken,
consumed by the magma
of its own desire.
Those last 12 lines absolutely hurtled toward the end, catching the reader up into the flurry of this headlong speed and defenseless against the pain and anguish of these words raking the sides of the readers' heart... Sometimes the rewards of love make a person wonder why they bother with it- - but the emptiness of a life spent alone is the only alternative- - not the greatest of choices when both involve the risk of a drilling sort of pain. Excellent write of course. An abundance of tens here, Seamus
Thank you, Susan! And, yes, love is a dangerous dance, but without it, there is a great void that is often worse.
Hi, Rebecca! ! ! Thanks for stopping by and reading. I have not been active here much, but look forward to spending some more time writing and reading in the months ahead. Always a pleasure to have you stop by! ! !
Wow A Very Deep Moving Poem Of Heart! ! ! ! ! That's Very Well Put Together! ! ! ! ! So Very Many 10S! ! ! ! ! +++++ Thank You For Sharing This! ! ! ! !
love can do all those things. Taking the literal heart and brain and extends the metaphor and makes it interesting. The amygdala, responsible for emotions, memory, and survival instincts have cursed the speaker! I like the last line, consumed by the magma of it's own desire. A metonymy: magma represents blood- but also refers to the hot blooded lover.
no surprise from you, neal, but this poem has stand-out phrases and images: the siphoning of my heart at times they rise like the ovation of my soul against the curtain of dawn, or flutter prismatically in that breeze which ushers chaos through the carnival midway the main word that comes to mind is dang! yet another creative densely-packed yet accessible expression of the heart's ache. wishing you the best for your body, soul, and spirit, glen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 5:23:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Such a deep and meaningful read, one can feel the pain within your words. your discription is so visual. I enjoyed this read very much indeed. An excellent write. Annette.
Thank you, Annette. Always a privilege to have you stop by, and I am always grateful for your gracious thoughts. Be blessed! :) S