Orange que te quiero verde, that's Poeticah
The Visual Poetry of Poeticah explores the boundaries between poetry, languages, and traditional with computer visual art.
This is a poem from my chapbook Axtlanadu.
Pain of Time in the Key of Gray
To Thomas Gray
I swim the lazy mournful rivers that flow
Throughout your Elegy in a Country Churchyard.
And strive to clear the pane of time to know
The thoughts and feelings that you tried to guard.
The only child of twelve who didn't die
Who saw your drunken father beat your mother.
Could this be why you were so sad and shy?
And why you were a single fragile flower?
Miss Henrietta Speed was fond of you.
Too bad, your bond with her blew into air.
Your life with women lasted long as dew.
Your special blossom had no seeds to bear.
Deep pockets could have kept you on a leash,
May have gravely dampened your ambition.
But your friend Horace Walpole made you publish,
Helped to light the world with diamond diction.
Richard West, your poet friend, died young.
The promise of his talent lost forever.
I feel his gentle strokes and hear his song
Wave your Elegy's rivers through the air.
Untold heroes and young who passed away,
Forgotten ones who died in poverty,
Cry their songs along the bluish gray
And misty rivers of your Elegy.