Conception

[SteveR]

Conception

I inherited the map in ’53,
a thousand years in the making,
just off a street in Costa Rica
where a single candle lighted
the human parchment
with ancient letters,
and stories of heroes and villains
violated maidens
Greek blood of Thalassemia
intermingled in a rising opera.

Life is determined much by chance.
If the match sparked a second longer
her dress unbuttoned a fraction sooner

my map would have been given to another.

[ray miller]

I think I get the gist of it, after a few reads. I like the poetry in it, lines 4-6 and the last 4 stand out. Though the last line would be just as well adjoined to the previous 3, I think.
Why a thousand years in the making? I'd have imagined much longer than that.

intermingled in a rising opera. - not sure what a rising opera might be.

[Macavity]

Greek blood of Thalassemia

The poem hooked me when I googled Thalassemia. The opening lines had a Borges feel. Don't get the opera bit.

cheers

mac

[David]

The poem hooked me when I googled Thalassemia.

Ah yes. I was expecting something about the sea, not that.

I agree with Ray about the thousand years, and I'm as puzzled as him (and Mac) by the rising opera, but - with the necessary background reading - it's very effective.

Cheers

David

[Suzanne]

Nice!

I agree with these crits.
Just a little polishing needed here.

I understood the opera idea. The drama from looking back at all the lives that created our histories.
Intermingling and rising seem just to much intense action, i think.

Attach that last line.

Well done, Stever


Suzanne