Transambulare 2

Poetry Original Works - Post Your Poems
1

city of doors and passages; everything appears to be.

some lives are seen and others hidden, like lies.

sudden walls round upwards and tower ocre or orange

over us like Renaissance sun dials, their colours swirled

through ancient white stone by Italian emigrés.

the Protestant confessional made public vies for Europe’s soul

with papal gold and its decadent gold rising and rising

far beyond heaven into glory. Secular witnesses

arrive late, post knowledge, and hungry for an image of god

made man, or saving that, a redemption from banality, or just lunch,

which here in Lyon, is the mundane, sausage and mustard;

hearty flesh and a hint of tart fire washed down with blood red wine.

2

Googled the title. Interesting. Obviously I am contemporary ‘post knowledge’ (relevant phrase…contexts are not so cohesive though familiarly divisive these days). The ‘we/our’ coupled with ‘banality’ felt judgemental and all inclusive: would a confessional ‘I’ be a more authentic fit for the jaundiced viewpoint?

Either way, enjoyed the read.

Phil

3

Thanks Phil, I made adjustments. Good comments

4

It has a very spirtual vibe. The cathardic kind you get when you walk into the space of these grand old cathedral-like churches.

6

That is an excellent poem

I read it

And I ENJOYED READING IT