From the depths of losses' well, memories are drawn
spilled on dusty ground, I am muddied
Splattered with its stain of pain its cleanliness gone
my clothed illusion bloodied
Under clear skies no clouds of forgetfulness' rains
that wash away emptiness' grime,
rusting imprisoning chains
Locked in the dungeon of time
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: February 22nd, 2024 04:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- User favorite of this poem: Teddy.15.
Offline)
Comments4
You got the key to get out?! lol.
Lost it Orchi and am looking for it. Lost it inside but will go look outside where the light is better. Thanks for the read appreciate it.
Ahh lol. Same as I was going to send an umbrella to a nasty prisoner - so he could use it indoors. Eh?! lol
My comments on the poem "Dungeon of time” by sorenbarrett
This is a compact poem of just eight lines, but packed with meanings that have to be distilled. Poetry is already a condensed form of writing that needs to be expanded, unpacked, paraphrased. Some poems are more condensed than others.
--“losses’ well” : the losses have their well, depths into which memories and stories sink. They are deep wells.
--"memories are drawn…” : memories that are hidden or untold so far. They have to be brought alive again through the art of the poet.
--“spilled on dusty ground” : the memories are spilled on the ground, but they are not yet available for common mortals to see and understand.
--"I am muddied…” : the poet is splashed with the dirt from the memories
--“splattered with its stain of pain…” : the memories have stains, and they are stains of pain and suffering.
--“its cleanliness gone…” : illusion is personified; it is given a life.
--“my clothed illusion bloodied…” : the illusion is not something that can be seen outright; it hides behind clothes. The illusion ends up being bloodied, not only shattered, but ends up tainted as well.
--“Under clear skies….” : under clear skies there are no rains, for rains need clouds from which they fall.
--“no clouds of forgetfulness’ rains…” : these are rains that come from forgetfulness.
--“that wash away emptiness’ grime…” : rains (that did not come) that have to power to wash away the dirt from emptiness. Emptiness has dirt that needs to be washed away.
--“rusting imprisoning chains…” : chains tie us down, jail us, but they fall in due course to corrosion and rust; in the final act of rusting, the chains fall apart and give liberation. The rusting process will lead to final liberation.
--“Locked in the dungeon of time…” : time is a dungeon that imprisons people. It is difficult to get out of a dungeon. It is even more difficult to get out of the dungeon of time. You get the feeling that you keep turning in circles. Life in a dungeon is morose, depressing. It wears you down. See the poem “The Prisoner of Chillon” by Gordon Byron (1788-1824). Soman Ragavan. 22 February, 2024.
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A most exhausting interpretation and review that is dead on correct. It dissects the poem clinically and is correct in its analysis. Thank you so much for the read and comments
You are welcome.
Absolutely beautiful, loved every line every image and every bit of emotion, may I say you are one of my all time favourite poets sir. 🌹
Your kindness truly humbles me Teddy. I feel unworthy of such high regard from a fellow poet. I thank you for your gracious remarks friend
Wonderful emotive words soren.
Andy
Thanks so much Andy your words are appreciated.
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