Treasure Island

michael oliver

(13-4-1948 / swansea)

Trying to be there


There at the end the virgin counsels us
If we ask if she chooses

This is a black this is a white
A world simple a world chosen

Not the now knowing not knowing the then
A world dreamt of worlds undreaming

Here we doubt there was no never doubting
In the stripes of these shadows

The haunting gives no unhaunted time to reflect
A time passant a world unmoved

There at the end the virgin still counsels
In kneeling admitting that we admit

That time was it's own that time truth
An innocence flavour within these shadows

In the dark being of the intended focus
Become my unique my hermit usual

Trapped in habits imagined reality this my drape
Enchanted by failure of chantless cloisters

Submitted: Friday, January 25, 2013
Edited: Sunday, September 22, 2013

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Comments about this poem (Trying to be there by michael oliver )

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  • Steven Ralph (1/25/2013 6:36:00 PM)

    I'm always drawn to visual poems (the only kind of poem in my mind) . I like the dark and light and shadows. Kind of scary. It's like going down a dark alley in a Film Noir Here again, we have a doubling and tripling of words which really works! Reminds me David Mamet. 'Put that coffee DOWN! Coffee is for closers!

    Anyway, the poem is great. One of your best. (Report) Reply

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