Shalimar by Guerlain
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
“Nothing is ever quite lost, even though its sense might be.”
~ Michael Schmidt, The Story of Poetry, 11
When time has taken long enough to change
A poem to a thing we cannot understand
Completely, it becomes for us a strange
And glowing riddle like a flower once bland
But glowing eerily at last with colors lit
Within. At last it has become possessed
As if by daemons wooing us. Submit
It to the microscope of thought, obsessed
As western thinking is, the poem will
Glow even more with vagueness, smelling of
Lacunae of millennia. Let spill
Of centuries harm its sense. Just leave love.
Just leave love. Let poetry cast spells
Unseeable. Let poetry cast smells..