‘Edenbray in Exile’
A Retrospective Anthology of 50 Poems, Articles and Essays
… … …
CHRYSALID

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The open wound healed and the taut,
pale skin grew faintly over
Foreign fingers still felt for that
awkward pain like a summer lover
Quiet amateurs, just sad explorers
who never quite reach above
Likened to madmen who endanger
love as they push, they shove
We set about this long road a long
while ago and the blue horizon
Sapphire and urban it lies like a
burning snake upon the sand golden
Where I am going is the choice of pilgrims
and you might not come
Where I have been it is cloudy,
it is overgrown, now lost in the sun
Darkness growing, an army lost
from sight and the faint colour of snow,
To temper it’s soul we reached out
to touch it and in the darkness, it glowed
Hands blackened from course, silent,
prayers break the granite of shame
Chisel-men, peace-men step from their caves,
the least should bow to blame
The strength of the ox and the plough,
the sweat of a nations golden thigh
There marched fourteen thousand,
yoked to broadsword to live or to die
Rivers fall, the longest path tumbling,
like frothing beasts in metal chains
Where the almanac says parties will vie
for certain clouded peace in vain
So many stories should be written,
so many angered tales of far too few
Black earth & soldiers bloodied ordure,
la couche de Mouron-des-Oiseaux
And the midnight call to prayer,
attended by Monsignor and His Wives
That silent abattoir where only things
unholy are unspoken, only evil dies
…
writtenbyedenbray20.04.2018
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‘the life of chrysalids may be prolonged by keeping them in a cold situation, such as an ice-house’.
~ According to M. de Reaumur
…

la couche Mouron-des-Oiseaux – the blanket of wild chickweed
..
Authors Note: We have reached No. 40 of this latest Anthology of work completed post-2013 and this is so far the most recent I have included in the Retrospective, having been written as recently as April, 2018.
A lot of things are happening in this piece – a lot of allusions – a lot of imagery – a lot of history to be recognised and a lot of future hopefully to be discovered.
I would call this a hopeful piece – it touches on past hurts, past grievances that sometimes lie dark and festering – waiting their chosen moment to resurface and exact revenge but those painful memories and troubled times can with forgiveness, tolerance and the strongest human character – be allowed to die, experience a kind of metamorphosis and change into something quite different. Humankind must choose the individual specifics.
Like a lot of these chosen pieces, this poem was not written with the Covid-19 Pandemic in mind but applies itself quite well. A lot of pain and broken pieces will need to find such a healing and rebirth after this sad and sad time for so many. Can humankind find the good grace to enter the chrysalid, find a way to properly mourn its losses and emerge in a brighter day? History tells us it can but also tells us it doesn’t always. ~ edenbraytoday

Can humankind find the good grace to enter the chrysalid, find a way to properly mourn its losses and emerge in a brighter day?

















EDENBRAY in EXILE – 41 – perfecy
‘Edenbray in Exile’
A Retrospective Anthology of 50 Poems, Articles and Essays
… … …
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PERFECY
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… … …
There is no word such as perfecy
No highlight so strange as leniency
Nothing as excellent to the core as profundity
There are only fleeting glances
Only minimalist extreme chances
And a pile of August petals by the door
I am caught in a lift door for one moment
And the everlasting ash whose fingers point up
Strays braver and ever toward me
But I grasped the mermaids towel deftly
It was as I allowed, soaked in blood
Here is your fire handed on a burning paper
A howl from the deep answered
600 the day’s dawn that brought me no return
..
writtenbyedenbray07.04.2018
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Perfecy : perfect conclusion
..
#Authors Note : I have been experimenting with abstractionism all my artistic life, both as a painter and writer but approaching my 70th birthday I suppose like a lot of creative minds, on reaching shall we say – our ‘golden years’ – the left-side of my brain wins more battles than the right. I’m pretty sure that is not due to any real signs of dementia or alzheimers and here I am honestly not joking. I feel, as sound as a pound which is probably not the best saying to reassure my readers during the current economic crisis.
I have always applauded the fact that – the bard – our greatest poet, was not afraid to create his own words, sayings and journeys of creative thought. Sadly for many writers his inspired works have become the conclusion to the tale rather than grand overture to a writers paradise, a stream leading into a river of written classics, a sea of – hey, yes well I’m sure you get the enormous picture. Hey, Nonny no – et Blackadder.
This piece – is experimental, inasmuch as I have created my own perfect word and then denied it and created a paragraph of seemingly disconnected stanzas which for me are powerful to the end of the line but in appearance unrelated. If however you are brave enough to ingest, dear reader, you may discover the line of thought which during the current mentally suffocating isolation caused by CV-19 I can assuage you, will certainly do you no real harm and in fact may aid you in your own personal voyage of discovery to ultimately find for a brief fleeting moment your perfecy.
~ edenbraytoday
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