baroque bones
bore imperial monarchs
in sumptuous splendor
abreast of red omens
blown in from their
cold Baltic exile
rococo foreshadowings
cast in deep snows
where two centuries
seethed with gestation
of bleak sensibilities
one winter palace with
rooms enough handy
for two hundred million
their hearts and minds
held in a cadre of hands
representing a virulent
small ideology bent on
replacing old tyranny
seizing their moment
to storm these gilt halls
giving usher to era
more brutal than any
past czarist regime
now preserved in this
overwrought coffin of
strident extravagance
hangs the great artwork
the eminent product of
painters whose impulses
never fell subject to
ruthless foul credo or king
perhaps causing both
Lenin and Catherine
to twist and to turn
in their moldering
contrary graves
Excellent. Uncanny, I have a list of words and lines that I jot down when my brain screams the need to write poetry but I am busy – I sometimes misplace these jotters… I found one this morning in my summer jacket and ‘Hermitage’ was on the first page, I was mulling it over when you appeared and I came to this page. I hope all is well with you, sir. Best wishes from baldy
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perhaps life is just a series of coincidences
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Astute , , ,
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a word that oddly always sounded to me like a sneeze – and so I say, God bless you
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Well that’s the history of Russia sorted at a stroke of you pen – a history that fascinates me no end. You have done it justice – even accounting for the injustice in their society over the centuries. Sublime.
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a people subjected to misery since time immemorial
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Yet within all that ‘art’ in all its forms survived – I’ve always found that odd!
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Oh my this is good–thank goodness the painters didn’t fall subject, but remained true to their hearts, souls.
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as we poets need to do the same
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Amen.
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Your use of language is So exquisite, Paul–gosh, makes me crazy envious some days…
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words have always been my treasures
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Wonderful poem as is the place. I was there January 1974 and it was amazing.
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glad that you enjoyed it, Ina
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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This is packed with thought…sometimes I wonder how a person can live with him/herself…how they feel justified to live in a palace when so many go without a roof over their heads…the suffering is great upon this Earth and in a large part due to narcissistic creatures and greed. And out of such suffering, Russia has delivered great writers and poets…artists and musicians…great strength…Wonderful writing, Paul!
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it’s a rich, complex culture
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