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  Poetry, and discussions of it, have a long history. Early attempts to define poetry, such as Aristotle's Poetics, focused on the uses of speech in rhetoric, drama, song and comedy. Later attempts concentrated on features such as repetition and rhyme, and emphasised the aesthetics which distinguish poetry from prose. From the mid-20th century, poetry has sometimes been more loosely defined as a fundamental creative act using language. Poetry often uses particular forms and conventions to expand the literal meaning of the words, or to evoke emotional or sensual responses. Devices such as assonance, alliteration, onomatopoeia and rhythm are sometimes used to achieve musical or incantatory effects. Poetry's use of ambiguity, symbolism, irony and other stylistic elements of poetic diction often leaves a poem open to multiple interpretations. Similarly, metaphor and simile create a resonance between otherwise disparate images—a layering of meanings, forming connections previously not perceived. Kindred forms of resonance may exist, between individual verses, in their patterns of rhyme or rhythm.

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The Hourglass


     I gazed with rapt attention at
the object borne to me alas
by fortuity or fate...
Boundless  bourns, wherein constraints
of time did not pertain,
becalmed all force of will within
enchantments cast unknown therein
by lands in sandy waves.

    The souls of all who passed before
the turning of this place of yore
from fertileness to waste,
whispered  ever nigh across,
and through the weathered hulks of lost
kingdoms in their wake.

     One last fortress remained therein
to guard this realm, beset within
by the strifes of ancient folk;
One last bastion yet unchecked
by the turning tides of fate to rest
in lonesome solitude.

     The storms that swept across these lands
in days of old, where bells foretold
of prophecies to come and pass,
filled the depths of leafless gutters
and empty streets with arid sands.

     Within the age portending such,
when heedless hearts began to clutch
the tempests yet unwoven,
dwelt miracles in gilded halls...
Dreams in waking, never failing
to leave their charges thus enthralled.

     These raptures however, in the turning,
could not stand the ever swirling
mists of time... In fear of such,
they fled to starry keeps instead...
Forsaken thus, in the swirling depths,
as none remained in love.

     Only the whisper of sand
can now be heard, whenever stirred
by the restless wind's caress...
As only the rumble of ancient works
can still be felt, disconcerting from nighted halls,
where great machines run on and on
far beneath the earth.

     Could I divine the ages hence,
and beholding fate, determine whence
that time may come again,
I would comply for peace of mind...
Though galaxies may rise and fall
and twilight may descend.

(Poem completed: 2003)

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Poetry written by: Bryan Garaventa; all rights reserved. No unauthorized reproduction or distribution is permitted without prior consent. If you would like permission for either of these purposes, or for any other reason, please click here to inquire further.

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