Motion

Summary

The website content reflects on the concept of motion through a poetic narrative, emphasizing the importance of pausing to truly appreciate life's moments.

Abstract

The web content presents a contemplative poem titled "Motion," which delves into the poet's personal journey with movement, both physical and metaphorical. The poem begins with a nod to the past, recalling advice to savor life's moments rather than racing through them. It progresses through various stages of motion, from infancy to old age, suggesting that true understanding and appreciation of movement come from moments of stillness. The poem is accompanied by an image from the 1940s and an audio link, providing a multisensory experience of the poem's theme.

Opinions

The poet expresses a deep reverence for the "prosaic bloom," indicating a appreciation for the beauty in everyday life.
There is a reflective tone on aging and the changing nature of one's relationship with movement, from crawling to dancing and eventually back to crawling.
The poem conveys a sense of wisdom gained over time, particularly the lesson that understanding motion is predicated on learning to pause.
The inclusion of an audio version of the poem suggests the author values accessibility and a multimedia approach to sharing their work.
The poet acknowledges the impact of a past mentor's advice to not rush through life's experiences, which has clearly influenced their current perspective.

A pause for some poetic thought

Artist unknown from my collection (circa 1940's)

I have an obsession with waves this is my sketch of motion…

AS always thank you for reading and or listening to my poem it means the world to this old poet. Audio link at the bottom of my poem:)

I gesture in the regard of a sunset smile As I passage my inscription of minutes In the grace obscured by the mundane beguiled I was once told “young man, don’t race through the visit.”

I’m the old man now, contemplative is my pace I strike motion in the reverence of fascination The adoration of prosaic bloom is my chase In the interlude movement of conversation In the trickle of peach juice dripping down my face

I crawled, Tottered, Walked, Dashed, Danced, Paced and limped And soon I will crawl again But I never learned how to move Until I learned how to pause