His inquietude made him what he was…
a repetitive jumble of endlessly clamoring
mental symbols that were not realities
(i.e., they were the typical unreal, fabricated images of the mind).
Her quietude was the immense beauty that she was…
a comprehensive wholeness of undivided reality,
actualities of timeless life movement beyond the known
(i.e., beyond mere superficial symbols of thought).
Neural Networks Personified … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2019
Tom's Nature-up-close Photography and Mindfulness Blog 
If there a verse missing? One for the non binary people perhaps?
No verse is “missing.” The poem was meant to be short and was not meant to address gender issues fully. I suggest that you read Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, who is a non-binary person whose works i passionately admire. 🙂
Tom, your a star, for I’ve not heard of Walt and now I do and look forward to a good read. Thank you.
Over soil are Leaves of Grass. Leaves of Grass is a long work. It has a lot of twists and turns. Read it carefully. It contains real magic! 🙂
Lovely!
Thank you, Belinda! 🙂
Whoa…i learned something here…
We hope so! 🙂 Thanks, Mich!
Over Soil has a good question — there is a verse missing, but I’m not going to write it. It could be done without the pronouns.
Read what was written to Over Soil.
I’ll tell you one thing… i don’t write to other poets and tell them that a verse is missing from their difficult efforts.
What is that?
What does your “that” refer to, Jane? It is a tendril of a wild plant, if that is what you are referring to.
My comment was “clear as mud.” I was wondering what kind of plant has a tendril like that. it may not be only one plant that does this, as I have seen them, but I am curious. The poem is interesting in its observance of contrast.
I’m not sure what wild plant this is, Jane. 🙂
I cannot stand the imposition of ideology on poetry. I once told someone, “My blog, my rules,” and the analogy here would be “my poem, my words.” It’s a fine poem, and that photo of the tendrils is exquisite. It also made me smile, since I’m remember those teenaged years when a 50′ coiled telephone cord allowed me to carry the family phone into my bedroom for a little privacy. How things have changed!
Yes, “imposition of ideology on poetry” is exactly an intelligent and honest way of putting it, Linda. It’s utterly ludicrous really!
Ah yes, i remember those coiled telephone cords (and the party-line system with operators… along with the whirring, rotating dial). Yes, times have changed tremendously. In the future, they’ll have holograms of the callers as an option (and will be smiling about what we have now). 🙂
I always think those tender plant tendrils look like curling ribbon!
Superficial symbols…fabricated images…out of touch with reality…hmmm…the coiled tendrils probably makes more sense to the human consciousness.