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Taste of Life---a Poem

Updated on April 30, 2017
ValKaras profile image

Val is a life-long student of the psycho-philosophy of living, and a devoted practitioner of many techniques enhancing personal evolution.

Some impatient verses stuck in his throat

with a glitter in the eye of a tear that won't form,

a distant sad piano's fading last note,

and a poet's Muse hesitant, even though warm.

Night. Long, and yet not long enough

for all those rhymes choking but not birthing,

while a mocking mind shoots some crazy stuff

with buried alive sentiment begging for unearthing.

Half a bottle later, the clock chimes coming sooner,

and then dam gives in, words spill all heavy and true,

a poet comes out of that disconnected mooner

with some finest words that his soul could brew.

Verse after verse in dizzying waltz of rhymes,

words drawing hearts with arrows in them,

a face-tick of smile brings up some happy times

one more sip, and a "cheers" to the rose collapsed on its stem.

The poem is done, but why so incomplete?

Why so much more feels left out and untold?

Not enough bitter, and not enough sweet

something that in poem just couldn't unfold.

Is the taste of life impossible to share?

Is it something doomed to forever stay mute?

Well, why even bother, and why should we care,

let's leave it mysterious, cute, and sometimes brute.




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    • always exploring profile image

      Ruby Jean Fuller 4 weeks ago from Southern Illinois

      I love your poetry. This was raw, but I could visualize the bottle and the mind spinning for words that would never complete one's life. This is where you shine, poetry!

    • ValKaras profile image
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      Vladimir Karas 4 weeks ago from Canada

      Ruby Jean---Several decades ago I used to write some poetry in my native Croatian language, but even then I just did it for a passing fun, and none were published anywhere because they were not intended to be. With English being my second language, I never thought my poetic attempts could deserve a comment like yours.

      So, thank you, my friend, for encouragement. I don't know how much longer I will have this kind of inspiration, but your comment(s) will always stay with me. You have one big and generous heart, Ruby Jean, and I hope those "proud roses" have been replaced with new ones in that vase.

    • MsDora profile image

      Dora Isaac Weithers 4 weeks ago from The Caribbean

      I like the conflict of rhymes "choking but not birthing" giving way to "finest words that his soul could brew." The magic potion worked wonders but seemingly still left him unfilled. Sounds like a real poet.

    • jgshorebird profile image

      jgshorebird 3 weeks ago from Southeastern U.S.

      I think that often times those who learned English or any language as a second or even third, bring new facets of understanding and description. I marvel at this when reading the works of Alexander Hamilton (one of America's Founders), who knew several languages, but his writing often amazed readers -- even to this day. By way of comparison, I may take issue with Karas as a philosopher, but not as a human.

    • ValKaras profile image
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      Vladimir Karas 3 weeks ago from Canada

      jgshorebird---My "human side" appreciates your compliment; my philosophical side thinks we would find many things in common---at least while both being rebellious by mentality---of course, if we ever tried.

      Not to merely "return the compliment", but I think your "human side" is noble and caring, and mine is only different by having found ways of not hurting.

      Thank you for reading my poem, and for the nice comment.

    • Dana Tate profile image

      Dana Tate 3 weeks ago from LOS ANGELES

      "Some impatient verses stuck in his throat

      with a glitter in the eye of a tear that won't form,

      a distant sad piano's fading last note," -

      I love that part of the poem. It painted a clear picture. Sometimes as a poet you scramble for the perfect words to describe how you feel and other times they flow from your heart like a river. I love when poetry flows because it's in it's rawest and purest form.

      I agree with Ruby, you shine and I might even say excel as a poet my friend.

    • ValKaras profile image
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      Vladimir Karas 3 weeks ago from Canada

      Dora, my friend---You said: "It must have been a real poet". It reminds me of my being able to make a Hungarian goulash without being a cook.

      Well, our friend Jodah is a poet, I just write poetry on those evenings when Canadian whimsical weather doesn't allow for a walk in the park, and there is nothing special on TV. Then I put a handful of walnuts on the side of my laptop and mumble something like: "Let's see, if I was by any chance a poet..."

      Thank you for the nice comment. But if you call me a "poet" a few more times---I will start believing you. - Val

    • ValKaras profile image
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      Vladimir Karas 3 weeks ago from Canada

      Dana, my friend---In the river of a poem there are "smooth flows" and there are those wild rapids when river looks "scrambled"---and both are depicting the poet's emotional dynamics...that emotional stuttering when faced with something that's impossible to express, and those free-flowing moments.

      I like contrasts, use of bombastic and staccato expressions that at times rape the tranquility or sensibility that's easy to digest.

      That's my soul of an ex drill army sergeant and a self-disciplinarian---in a combination with a romantic and clownish dude who deep down doesn't give a rat's ass about anything. Apparently impossible combination, but---it works for me.

      I am truly delighted that you like my poetry, and thank you for your encouraging words.

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