Hidden Harmonies
“In all chaos there is cosmos. In all disorder a secret order.” —Carl Jung
I. Slaying Chaos
—a pantoum
I’m searching for a meaning in this mess.
I’m wading through a shady lake of murk
To find a shred of sense in senselessness.
I’m trawling where the slick and shifty lurk.
I’m wading through a shady lake of murk
As mud is slung by toadies in the know.
I’m trawling where the slick and shifty lurk.
I fish where secrets spill and ill winds blow.
As mud is slung by toadies in the know
Whose crafty hearts are callous as a shark,
I fish where secrets spill and ill winds blow.
I seek a stubborn sunbeam in the dark.
With crafty hearts as callous as a shark,
Fiends focus with a fierceness on their goal
Of keeping sunbeam seekers in the dark
To choke the spark of hope that fires the soul.
I focus with a fierceness on my goal
Of finding shreds of sense in senselessness.
To stoke the spark of hope that fires the soul,
I’m salvaging the meaning from this mess.
II. The Reluctant Realist
Before she grew, before she knew
That lies were rife and truths were few,
Before she heard hope’s helpless screams
Her ardent heart was hot with dreams;
Before her Eden burned to dust
Her floral core was lush with trust.
Beyond her haze of dizzy days
Where rosy rays out-blazed the grays,
Beyond her petaled path of cheer
Where words were warm and deeds sincere,
Beyond her sphere of ever green
She saw a view she’d never seen…
A drab expanse of common sense—
No dross. No gloss. No recompense.
III. Clever Devils
—a triolet
Admitting that they knew less than they thought
Spurred treks through labyrinths that led to light.
No ear believed these preening seers were caught
Admitting that they knew less than they thought.
Their toilsome, twisty, thorny journey brought
Much wiser eyes with hints of second sight.
Admitting that they knew less than they thought
Spurred treks through labyrinths that led to light.
The Reluctant Realist was first published
as a stand-alone poem in Snakeskin
Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
Susan — I love these, of course! Your great work is always a view I’ve never seen.
Russel, thank you very much indeed! I’m honored to present such a wise poet a new view, but sadly I think this new view is down to a wild and cynical Muse with a warped sense of humor. She’s in dire need of lessons in poetic etiquette from your mellow and measured Muse.
On a day when the news of the joint operation by the US and Israel against Iran is underway, these poems have a surprising relevancy to the fog of war with the titles, “Slaying Chaos,” “The Reluctant Realist,” and “Clever Devils.” Your imaginative alliteration is manifest in these poems along with creative verses and rhymes. As always, the reader is rewarded with striking words and symbols that stir the soul. You will note the military often forgoes using periods in abbreviating US.
Roy, thank you very much for your astute and beautiful words on my poetry and your educational comment. You’re right on the timing front. I always love learning something new. Perhaps the periods are left out to create a sense of togetherness – a sense of unity – a sense of “us” against “them”… how interesting.
Susan, you should bring these poems to the Congressional floor where they are sifting through the Web of Lies.
Now there’s an idea, Margaret! “Web of Lies” is spot on – it’s so difficult to tell fiction from fact in this technological age of AI images that look real and history being rewritten before our eyes. That search for words with a ring of truth is growing increasingly murkier. Margaret, thank you!
Susan, your poems grabbed me right from the rather metaphysical title and the Carl Jung epigraph which, of course, leads directly into “Slaying Chaos.” The very idea of hidden harmony in the disorder of the world is a deeply hopeful one and that is how I read your poems. “Slaying Chaos” delivers big in describing the search for meaning in a cruel universe. I am reminded of Victor Frankl here and his Man’s Search for Meaning. The world can be pretty rough and yet if we can develop the skill of boundaries and profundity in one’s inner life, we can not only survive it but maybe even light a candle for those in our wake. I especially like the confidence in the line “I focus with fierceness on my goal…” It is the only way. A society and its members cannot survive suicidal empathy.
You seem to realize this in your “Reluctant Realist” which flows beautifully from “Slaying Chaos.” The fact is, it is difficult for people of good will to recognize that they have been misinformed about the good will of others. It is deeply painful to wake up one day and realize that Mankind is not inherently good, that the only enemies are NOT hunger, disease, colonialism and global warming and that if these things were obliterated we would all live in some kumbaya form of Star Trek Eden. There’s a song from “The Music Man” called “The Sadder But Wiser Girl.” Exactly. By the way, a huge shout-out to the delightfully tongue-twisting lines: …her haze of dizzy days/Where rosy rays out-blazed the grays…
Now you were able to put aside the ideological blinders and look at the world as it actually exists. How about others? Well, that seems to be the theme of “Clever Devils” and the admission (is it genuine?) that one is wrong – and how those in their wreckage are forced to snake their way through the maze the “Devils” created with their lies in the first place. The BBC won’t do it. Nor will the New York Times. Still, an admission of being wrong is possible. It’s rare, but it happens. I’m still pleased by the Society of American Plastic Surgeons and the American Medical Association turning 180 degrees to decry “gender affirming surgery” for minors. (Of course, they only did it because the malpractice claim floodgates are now opening.) I respect Bill Maher for publicly admitting he has been wrong about some things. But on the other hand, look at the Clintons. They wouldn’t know – let alone tell — the truth if it came up and bit them in their blue dress. For every organization and politician who acknowledges being wrong, there are 100 who dig in their heals. Still, your poem gives an exhausted sense of hope. Well done on all three, Susan. It’s always a pleasure, a source of hope and tremendously stimulating to read your scintillating work!
Brian, I am in awe and I am most grateful for the way you always manage to dig beneath the surface to get to the heart of my poems and how you always manage to uncover the deeper meaning with a super-sleuth mind and a sensitive understanding each poem benefits from. I am particularly glad you saw the hope shining through the mayhem and misery of all the lies we are mired in. I am glad you mention Frankl, who has had an enormous influence on my outlook. Above all else, life must have meaning… even in the direst of circumstances. Once meaning is lost, then so is faith, hope, and happiness. I have come to believe that during times of hardship and suffering there is always a significant lesson to be learned – a lesson that leads to the Truth. If Truth doesn’t exist, then what is the point of our lives? This is why it’s important to seek it and speak it.
Thank you for your close reading of the second poem. When the dark side of existence is uncovered, it’s an obvious shock to the system, but it’s absolutely necessary for survival. A world without the Truth is a barbarous place to be, and a pair of rose-colored spectacles won’t save you from its jaws. This is why I’m so grateful to have had a grandmother who spoke the brutal truth. It hurt when I buried my rainbow-maned unicorn and my rose-tinted realm shattered, but I’m benefiting from my grandmother’s wisdom to this day.
As for those Clever Devils – is it genuine, indeed? I too am over the moon that the Society of American Plastic Surgeons and the American Medical Association are turning 180 degrees to decry “gender affirming surgery” for minors. The tide is turning… the truth is revealing itself, slowly but surely, as it always does… did those pushing lies and wielding the scalpels know it was wrong? Did Bill Maher and every other rich TV show host know the ideologies of this sick age were wrong? Did the politicians and mainstream media know? Or are they just learning after a long trek down thorny roads to enlightenment? I will leave that one to a greater judge than my cynical Muse to decide.
Brian, thank you very much indeed!
Susan, always a delight to read your carefully crafted poems!
Thank you very much, Paul!
Sober, defiant and (as always) a pleasure to read. Thank you for writing and sharing them, Susan.
Martin, thank you very much for reading and commenting. I will wear my Sober & Defiant badge with pride today… as I quaff a Margarita beneath the mesquite.
Susan, once again you have blown us away with your pyrotechnical talents! A fireworks display of poetic skill and imaginative energy in three distinct forms: pantoum, sonnet, and triolet.
These are not just top-notch poems of solid craftsmanship. They speak profoundly and prophetically of the nightmarish situation of the contemporary world, and they do so in the personal voice of one Englishwoman and her pain, and in the collective voice of a new Delphic Oracle addressing a vast audience.
Susan Jarvis Bryant, John Whitworth, and James Sale — what is it about Kent that produces such amazing poetic aptitude? Is it the Jute heritage, the idyllic countryside, or just the water?
Joe, thank you so much for your magnificent and most encouraging comment. You have me getting all nostalgic about Kent – my beautiful home county which I carry in my heart – and what an honor it is to be mentioned alongside the grand John Whitworth and the great James Sale. I believe it’s the Dover air and Kentish hops that may have something to do with it.
Thank you Susan for these three marvelous poems. Whatever it is that you are eating, drinking or breathing, I want some of it! 🙂
Norma, I was just about to ask you what you were eating, drinking, and breathing. My poems would benefit from a bit of Pain’s perky brand of pleasure running through them. The world needs all the poetic sunshine it can get. Norma, I can’t wait to bask in a few more of your rhythmic rays. Thank you very much for your lovely words.
Fantastic across the board, and an inspiration for all of us to follow your example when we feel stuck in the labyrinth. We need to keep searching for the meaning that so many others either ignore or actively try to obscure.
Warren, it’s always great to receive a comment from a poet after my own heart, and I thank you for your appreciation, your sanity in a madder-than-a-March-hare world, and your wisdom.
Brian once again copied MY comment word for word, Susan. I hate that!
I should have posted without consulting him, but, FTR – I look forward to YOUR intoxicatingly provocative submissions more than anyone else’s. You’re getting pretty good at this poetry thing. 🙂
Mark, you never fail to make me grin – a precious gift for which I thank you wholeheartedly. I am going to flash my “Intoxicatingly Provocative” badge along with my “Sober and Defiant” one. All who care to look will be dazzled by their splendor! I’m in diva mode… poor Mike!
All three poems feel like they are circling the same hard-earned truth, and the line “I’m salvaging the meaning from this mess” honestly feels like the thesis statement for the whole set. In The Reluctant Realist, “No dross. No gloss. No recompense.” hits like a cold splash of water, the moment idealism finally gives way to reality. And in Clever Devils, “Admitting that they knew less than they thought” is both humbling and freeing at the same time. Taken together, they read like a reminder that wisdom does not come from avoiding chaos or disappointment, but from walking straight through it and refusing to quit.
~Michael
PS: You’re fun to read
Michael, it’s always a pleasure to receive an encouraging comment from your good self, and I’m so pleased you have homed into the “meaning from the mess” line as feeling “like the thesis statement for the whole set.” It is. What is life without meaning? No matter how hard it gets to look at the immutable Truth, I believe that is where you’ll find the meaning and purpose of life. Your closing observation has touched my heart with its hope and encouragement. Turning back from one’s trek on the wrong path to begin a new journey on the right path, isn’t a setback – it’s the beginning of a man’s search for meaning, which is why I’ve turned back many times and stubbornly refused to quit on my path to enlightenment. Michael, thank you for your fine eye and your beautiful heart!
The middle poem is as good a poem as I have ever read, form or theme be damned. I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.
C.B., thank you so very much for this wonderfully encouraging comment. I admire your poetry and the way you always view life with a fresh and engaging perspective that makes me stop and think. That’s why this comment is so dear to me.
All three were very good, but the second poem is what I would call a perfect poem. Every thread of its fabric is carefully woven into and tightly knotted to the whole cloth. The coruscation of pure English is stunning and could round out an entire poetic career. The poem has resonance as profound as Wordsworth’s “My Heart Leaps up”.
C.B., this follow-up comment is such a gift – thank you for giving the second poem further thought. It means a lot because this poem is the closest to my heart. The mention of Wordsworth’s ‘My Heart Leaps Up’ has made me realize that this is the very first time I’m nearer to understanding the full scope of “The Child is Father of the Man.” – something I studied at length as a schoolgirl – confusing words that bothered me and stoked my curiosity. I am drawn to the stark difference between the word “childish” and the word “childlike” – and I hope I hang on to the childlike aspects of my outlook for the rest of my born days. Thanks again!
Here is that poem… beautiful.
My Heart Leaps Up
William Wordsworth
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
Susan,
I am always astonished at the beauty you command and the care you take in the creation of your poetry. I love being your sounding board as you type away. Also, I am amazed that, when you take one of my poem ideas, the finished product is always far better than I could have imagined.
Bell’s Palsy may have slowed you down a bit, but it looks like all chambers are firing again. Just keep on oclasting them damned icons… with beauty and class!