Proliferation

Day Nine of GloPoWriMo invites us to write of the big and the small.  Reminded first of oaks and acorns i began my research and I came across this article, which was clearly contrived to play upon my fears.  is-google-making-us-stupid  Why yes Mr Carr, you’ve roused my inner luddite, and surely Google exacting an inconcieved price, Google is making us stupid.
Memory leaned on writing and became weaker for it. Love leaned on thought and became weaker for it. Thought leans on information and atrophies as well. As Love seems more distant than ever, as our devices change the way we live and even think, can Poetry survive?

 

information used to be rare, coveted
squirrelled away in the vaults of libraries
Like diamonds, sparkling, brilliant, tiny

contemplation was huge, they say, back then
monasteries full of acolytes, each in their niche
repercussions were considered, prominent, huge

gutenberg’s carnival contraption dunked authors
into a sea of readers. Authors mulitplied to meet them
every word finally met the page, though some were worth little

now we are caught in a net of our own making
the rare and precious information now as ubiquitous
and as expensive as air, so common, so pervasive, so vast

the skill of the hunter is diminished, that focus
that concentration. All depth is lost, the sea
is a pancake, concentration lost in moments so miniscule

my mind melts and its effluent drips down over everything
covering my heart and drowning my soul in snippets
Prose is dying, will poetry, in it’s absence bloom large?

no i fear. for isn’t poetry about the heart, first and foremost?
it is the key that opens a door to a perception hard to find
by other means, yet the internet has made that door a mote

yet like daffodils under snow or fallen logs, how can we know
what circuitous route the heart will take to blossom anew?
our minds will never be the same once we grow and expand

 

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25 thoughts on “Proliferation

  1. your opening contemplation is expertly and fully elaborated in each of the verses. I love the construction of the couplet and trailing third line and not least these words:
    “gutenberg’s carnival contraption dunked authors
    into a sea of readers.”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Perhaps in our search for the answer to “yet like daffodils under snow or fallen logs, how can we know
    what circuitous route the heart will take to blossom anew?” we’ll find some meaning and focus . . . this was beautifully written.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. For ME the current access to info and literature and movies and (on and on) has opened a whole new world for me – I wouldn’t be writing poetry, I think, if I hadn’t access to educating myself – and I type everything as I think quickly and my pen just can’t keep up… and I edit, edit, edit and a messy page of sloppy writing drives me crazy. I liked your “daffodil” line as well 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Love your thoughts and words, but of words, these are your deepest: what will our minds do, when we no longer have to be bothered with thinking?
    Well done Erbiage
    Anna :o]

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I, too, like your last stanza containing these last words
    “our minds will never be the same once we grow and expand” This is a statement, not a hope, and I love it for that reason. I’m on the side of those who believe “the best is yet to come” 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  6. ‘now we are caught in a net of our own making
    the rare and precious information now as ubiquitous
    and as expensive as air, so common, so pervasive, so vast

    the skill of the hunter is diminished, that focus
    that concentration. All depth is lost, the sea
    is a pancake, concentration lost in moments so miniscule

    my mind melts and its effluent drips down over everything
    covering my heart and drowning my soul in snippets
    Prose is dying, will poetry, in it’s absence bloom large?’

    I could have quoted the whole poem. Every word is a jewel.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Prose is dying, will poetry, in it’s absence bloom large? … that’s the big question isn’t it, so wonderfully woven into a beautiful poem… with diminishing attention spans and the preponderance of instantly gratifying information.. poetry is hard pressed to survive…!

    Liked by 1 person

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