Poet's Corner » Discussions

Hermit Island

 
  • Hermit Island



    Recently took a trip to Hermit Island, Maine with about a hundred other people for a zoology course. Lots of tide pool study, some ecology stuff, and much time for introspection. Here's what I came up with during that time.

    EDIT: I figured since this is a bunch of stuff that's pretty heavily related it wouldn't make sense to clutter the main thread with it. If it's preferred that I put it there anyway, though, I can move it without too much trouble


    Edited by Aranneas on 23 Sep 2008, 21:29
  • Haiku



    None of these are titled except for the first.

    "Star"
    I hold it upward,
    Towards the sky, and cannot
    tell the kin apart.


    I walk on the bed
    Where travelers lie sleeping,
    Waiting to return.


    Mirrors in the rocks
    turn outward to the wide clouds
    with slow blinking eyes.


    He shatters himself
    a thousand times a thousand
    to a single peace.


    Watching the embers
    Of a flame that can't be lit
    Is more than darkness.


    From beginning, end.
    I turn my face to the sea.
    From end, beginning.


    Edited by Aranneas on 23 Sep 2008, 21:29
  • Untitled



    What is the ocean?
    A perfect pattern of unbroken chaos.

    What is the shore?
    A timeless mess of drifting crystal.

    What is a man?
    Something in between.


    Edited by Aranneas on 23 Sep 2008, 21:30
  • Hermit



    An island is a hermit:
    A lonely survivor of some vast, unknown shipwreck,
    who has found true solace in his isolation.

    An island is a hermit:
    A crazed shaman, gone seeking a vision.
    He dreams, now, of ancient creatures sleeping in his hair.

    An island is a hermit:
    A monk who has traded in his sackcloth
    for the lost and untamed forms of the wilderness.


    Edited by Aranneas on 23 Sep 2008, 21:30
  • Solo mission

    On the last day, we were asked to find a spot to ourselves and spend an hour on the following three ideas: first, to observe everything we could around us with all our senses; second, to meditate on the idea of rhythm as we had discussed it during the week; and third, to think on what we personally had gained in this period of time. This is an unedited transcription of what I wrote in that time.

  • I. Observations


    The sea.

    All around me, green.
    Green lichen on the rocks beneath me.
    It flakes to the touch.
    Plants try their best.
    I see mint; bushy hemlocks;
    Many more I cannot name.
    Their scent, though, is also green.
    They sway in the wind, fluttering gently about.

    The sea, the sea, the sea.

    Not all is green.
    I name the rocks at my feet.
    Sandstone, I call them.
    At my head, quartz.
    I do not know what they smell like.
    I do not know what they seek.
    Sand in the cracks.
    It is smooth. It is rough.

    The sound of the surf.
    Salt breeze. Thunder.
    The sea.

    Gulls circle, in the distance.
    Their cries pierce the clouds.

    The veil parts.

    I feel the sun on my face.
    I see dappled circles on the rocks.
    The rest is still shadow
    - but not dark.
    The sea, though, is dark.
    I can see nothing within it,
    except
    the Waves.

    Whitecaps strike the beach.
    What gifts have they brought this island?
    More green in the distance:
    Hills rolling away,
    like an outspread carpet.
    They hide under evergreens.

    A blue tent.
    A red van.

    The honey bee buzzes as he sits on my arm.

    The sea.

    Edited by Aranneas on 23 Sep 2008, 10:50
  • II. Rhythm


    There is no rhythm: there is only chaos.
    Is that true?
    Do we only impose order where none existed?

    Maybe.
    I don't think so.
    Maybe I did, once.

    Each small creature has its ebb and flow.
    Are we ruled by the tides around us?
    The tides themselves are slaves to forces greater still.

    The world is unimaginably large.
    Did someone think of it, once?
    Did that bring it into being?

    No human could have such thoughts.
    Did it create itself?
    Sheer will and love striving to be seen?

    Who ordered the pace of its orbit?
    The rotation, tilted just so,
    Pulling from discord a cycle of seasons?

    Would we exist as we are,
    without that?
    Would we be?

    Many beings together can alter the flow.
    Is this so?
    Perhaps with time.

    Time, though, is certainly an imposition.
    And yet it seems to hold so much sway -
    Even we are ruled by rhythm

    Our bodies dictate eating, sleeping;
    Aloneness and togetherness.
    Neither can be universal; we need both.

    Something more subtle watches our feelings.
    Our tokens of love, our lashings out;
    Our sadness, our joy.

    Yet that, too, is a rhythm.
    More, it is one we all beat
    together.

    There is always play.
    There is room for change.
    There is mischief.

    The chaos is always there,
    I think.
    It is under the surface.

    Is it chained?
    Maybe.
    I think it waits until it is needed.

    Edited by Aranneas on 23 Sep 2008, 21:31
  • III. Reflections

    What have I found in this time and place?

    Maybe I have caught my stride.

    Maybe I have seen a sliver of the world.
    Maybe I will remember.

    Maybe I have lost my heart's rhythm.
    Maybe I have found it.

    I think I have found a pace for my hands and feet.
    I think I have found somewhere to set my eyes.
    I think I have found a line with which to drag myself from the mud.

    I have found wonder.
    I have found joy.
    I have found awe.

    Maybe that is enough.


    Edited by Aranneas on 23 Sep 2008, 21:31
  • Very interesting.
    You can move it to the main thread if you like, if only so it won't be so empty:), but anyway. Perhaps some photographs of the island would help complete the experience after reading this

    Futility is resistant.
  • Your wish is my command. I've interspersed photos from the cameras of two friends with the poems. I think it makes for a bit of a different experience.

    (Actually, I think I kind of like it separated out, if that's not a problem. It's sort of become a bit of a collection now. :p I'll throw in a link to make the main thread less lonely, though.)

  • Hey, great place. And great pictures.
    Ok, that'll do:)

    Futility is resistant.
  • I thought so too. :)

    Any comments on the actual poems, or the writing piece?

  • I 've only read the first 3 ones carefully, I liked them, I'll continue when my eyes dont close on their own...*yawn*time for bed

    Futility is resistant.
  • Nice thread, pictures are fantastic and I like the words too! Happy Halloween :P

  • As mentioned in this thread, I have now completed making a track with Max Waves including lyrics from Aranneas' poem Reflections that I found here at Poet's Corner and which he kindly gave permission for.

    It's a downtempo ballad with a hint of classical, rap and trip-hop...

    Reflections (Max Waves feat Pixieguts)

    Thanks for the wonderful words Aranneas!

    Rap lyrics are from the writings of TRavvy.

    This is a collaboration between artists in Italy, Australia and Canada.

  • =)
    Nice to know a half-active group is so helpful!

    Futility is resistant.
Anonymous users may not post messages. Please log in or create an account to post in the forums.