The Inexpressible Expressed (a Sestina)

Tags

agora, Diogenes, Epicureans, Halirrhothius, ineffability, Mars Hill, orator, Paul, sestina, Stoics, Unknown God

 

Paul was in the agora (market-place)

and saw the altar to The Unknown God.

Unimpressed by ineffability,

he was moved to make a proclamation.

Being keen on words and declaration,

he spelled out the Creator’s qualities.

 

A skilled orator, he had qualities

respected by debaters in that place.

Converts were won by his declaration.

Diogenes submitted to Paul’s God

and was made Bishop by proclamation:

an agent for Ineffability.

 

Could God retain ineffability

and yet reveal immanent qualities?

His Son, some say, was the Proclamation-

the One prepared to come down to this place,

to manifest the true nature of God

the Father – a fleshly declaration.

 

Not speculation, but declaration

validated ineffability.

Paul introduced the Personhood of God

and defined the Almighty’s qualities.

Stoics, Epicureans in that place

felt the power of his proclamation.

 

The gods had made their own proclamation

on that very site and a declaration

of guilt had been conferred in that same place,

for crimes besmirch ineffability:

Halirrhothius judged for qualities

inconsistent with the ways of a god.

 

On that steep Hill of Mars, who was the god

of War, Paul made a love proclamation.

He swept away the fickle qualities

of their deities.  His declaration

was that Divine Ineffability

condescended to one time and one place.

 

Paul’s proclamation; God’s declaration:

Ineffability’s limitation

of qualities, so we transcend our place.

 

 

 

 

 

Gathering Rosebuds

Tags

a rose is a rose, Altissimo, Arthur Bell, Bobby Charlton, Bourbon, centrifoliate, Duke of Windsor, gathering rosebuds, Grandpa Dickson, Handel, hybrid, Josephine, Lilli Marlene, Madame Butterfly, Malmaison, musk, Paul, Persephone, Picasso, Pluto, Queen Elizabeth, Rob Roy, rose-coloured spectacles, Sarabande, Scherzo, St Rose of Viterbo, Uncle Walter, Violet Carson

From over 20 years ago.  They say it has been a bumper year for roses.

GATHERING ROSEBUDS

In that quiet period which precedes dusk,

I ramble in my rose garden, inspecting every bloom-

whether it be centrifoliate, Bourbon, tea or musk

and feel for poor Persephone, who met her doom

while gathering flowers.  Then, somewhat galled,

with secateurs in hand, I prune Picasso’s shape

and de-shoot Bobby Charlton; snip off  Rob Roy’s balled

pompoms-all to avenge her rape.

I see The Duke of Windsor has reverted to his roots;

he’s mainly sucker.  His infestation calls for a systemic,

to safeguard Queen Elizabeth and, if it suits,

his exile to another bed, to stall an epidemic.

Catharsis calms me, so I conduct and orchestrate

Handel, Sarabande and Scherzo.  Altissimo’s too flush:

but such a quality I always tolerate

in any standard, climber, hybrid bush.

Would a rose by any other word smell quite the same?

If Violet Carson, Uncle Walter, Grandpa Dickson, Arthur Bell

should be compared to Madame Butterfly, or the lush Lilli Marlene?

Did jilted Josephine’s sterility inspire Malmaison’s cultivation?

Did she feel that floral beauty compensated for the tolling of Love’s knell;

comprehend, with Paul, that fleshly thorns are inherent in all exaltation?

Lovers believe no canker will attack their pedicels

and, like St Rose of Viterbo, their love will know no putrefaction.

If so, they look at Life through rose-tinted spectacles:

for Pluto may make bargains, but he still culls with satisfaction.

But, if a stem has never blossomed, then it might as well be briar

(the poets said)

and, with the unproductive fig, be destined for the fire-

else we must be what we must be: ripeness is all.

For a rose is a rose is a rose – evanescent beauty is its call.