Really Pretentious Poetry

I usually can’t stand it when people post their obnoxiously pretentious attempts at poetry on their blogs, but I figured, “Hey! If they can do it, I can do it!”  This was an American Literature assignment, based of “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”.  Ten points to anyone who can list all the references I make!

Thirteen Ways of Looking at That Than which Nothing Higher can be Thought

by Cole Webb Harter


Out in the darkness
was a Light
which was black as night.


He hangs from the tree,
extending his tongue briefly
to taste the sweet honey.


The smell of roses
is not what it seems.


We are all cut to the heart
by our conviction,
by the blackness of our hearts.


Κύριε ελέησον, Κύριε ελέησον. Κύριε ελέησον!
Господи помилуй, Господи помилуй, Господи помилуй!


There’s a man and a woman and a Spirit.
Synergy. As above, as below.
Mens, notitia sui, et amor sui.


The wind in the trees.
The song of the rocks of the desert.
The trickle of the creek.
The magic of reality?


Existence precedes essence.
What happens in the phaneron
stays in the phaneron.

Valaam and Athos and
the Grand Chartreuse may disappear
any day.
They vibrate at such a high


Out in the darkness
there is a Light
brighter than which nothing can be thought.


A rustle in the Douglas Firs.
The prom queen screaming,
“Fire walk with me!”
Mike’s arm . . . dancing.


Where it is dry and hot and open,
where the people are small and mean,
where the snow is murderous,
the wind blows strongest where it wills.


Ce n’est pas un dieu

It is my phaneron and his energeia,
but my and his essence in this life,
never the twain shall meet.

This entry was posted in Faith, Pious Indulgences and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Really Pretentious Poetry

  1. MyLan says:

    Stop I hate pretentious poetry.

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