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My Town on Seven Hills

Like Moscow, Istanbul and Rome
my town is built on seven hills.
At the top of the tallest of them all,
my home stands on the thin stilts.

I wake up every morning
to the clinking glass and wind
wheezing under the floor.
I open my windows.

Sunbeams
bounce from the roof tops
and play with the weather vanes.
They run through the grapes
from the neighboring slopes.
They run in my veins.

Giving the town transparent glow,
they run in the narrow
hunched backs of the streets,
the streets to mislead and entice,

where any sidewalk may end
in a vertical drop or stop on the dome
with a flower garden on top
right around the cross.

My four-dimensional town
with time axis compressed
and vertical one blown out,
I am drawn to its geometrical forms,
polyhedrons, plains, and lines.

And when I meet occasional strangers
enchanted head over heels
I let them build their own house
on one of the seven hills.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: 1. Capitol Hill 2. Meridian Hill 3. Floral Hills 4. Forest Hills 5. Hillbrook 6. Hillcrest 7. Knox Hill

Review Request Direction: How was my language use?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Washington DC, USA

Favorite Poets: Matsuo Bashō, Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski, TS Eliot, William Carlos Williams, Joseph Brodsky, Boris Pasternak, DH Lawrence, Robert Frost

More from this author

Comments

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

IRiz

You had promised to write about the urban life...you have delivered the promise by creating a wonderful landscape from a Poet's perspective. There are so many good lines which I won't mention because it would be like reproducing more than half of your verses and what is written in between cannot be reproduced but only imagined and perceived.

a pleasure read and a lesson too on how to create a painting of a house atop one of the seven hills. Makes me wonder if you write with a brush
............................................................................................

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

Dear Raj,

Dear Raj,
I am glad you mentioned a brush. The poem was inspired by Escher's graphics, one of the most brilliant artists of the last century.

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

Well IRiz... good to know

Well IRiz... good to know what inspired you to pick up your brush to create this landscape poem...it reflects of humility which is a quality of an artist to owe it to the source of his/her inspiration. Thanks to your creative skills, I could see the picture painted in pastel colors of your choice....

since you have created this landscape from the bird's eye view atop a precipice of the seven hills, I wonder if you had treated readers to the view of the valleys. Just a thought.

keep painting mad girl..
........................................................................................

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

Hope I have not offended you

Hope I have not offended you by calling you mad girl. it was intended in a good way. Apologies if you have thought it otherwise.
...................................................................................

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

Hi Raj,

Hi Raj,
No no no not offended,
Your words are warm and it is a real treat for me. I was distracted by something and did not answered but ment to say, thank you.

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

Good to know that IRiz

Good to know that IRiz

I said so because only a mad girl sees sunbeams run through the grapes from the neighboring slopes.
and then run in her veins .....and many things [verses] like that . :)
........................................................................................................................

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

Hahaha, but

Hahaha, but
think about how light goes through a grape, lighting it up like a lantern!
And then when you open your heart to the sun, don't you feel the sunbeems penetrate your skin and run in your blood?
Or maybe you know how some wines preserve
the memory of their sunny days,
take it through the long and dark
fermenting process and spark
it back from the glass?
And where it all ends? In your veins again, dissolved in your blood.

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

another mad thought...

another mad thought...

how some wines preserve
the memory of their sunny days,
take it through the long and dark
fermenting process and spark
it back from the glass

I wouldn't mind getting insane to be able to look at these things the way you do..I now know how to get insane...by just keeping on reading you poems...:)
...........................................................................................

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

believe me...if i can write

believe me...if i can write half as good and mystifying as you do I won't mind at all being smitten by this contagious bug..
....................................................................................................................

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

I like your poetry very much;

I like your poetry very much; especially short poems because there you only keep words that are truly dear to you. I think you are still growing. I believe I noticed that your later poems are more unique, more yours. (If you allow me such use of words.) How long have you being writing?

R

raj

7 years 1 month ago

Thanks IRiz

for your kind words. Coming from the accomplished poets like you they mean a lot and keep inspiring me to evolve in my hunger for continual improvement. I have been here on and off for about seven years with spells when I have been away due to work responsibilities. I do realize that I haven't accomplished much over these years. You are right...I am still growing and know that I am on a learning curve...reading poems from the likes of you certainly helps in the learning process...

warmly...

weirdelf

weirdelf

7 years 1 month ago

two things regarding the mad-

"Blessed are the cracked for they let in the light"
and
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."
Jack Kerouac

Eumolpus

Eumolpus

7 years 1 month ago

Hi Iriz

I like the poem. It so reminds me of the "Triggering Town" philosophy of poetry by Richard Hugo who suggests the poet in our modern day must create his own town, out of his imagination, and live in that town in his writing. With this new freedom of inventing places, faces, events in which the surreal can connect with the real as the reader shares the new landscape.
The language and narrative work perfectly within that town, your town.

Although many cities may have several hills, we only think of Rome in that way, and I did not prefer the opening line. It stopped me saying "really, I didn't know that. I have been in both and never heard that mentioned.." as so was distracted from what very quickly evolves on its own.. So I would
just stick with the comparison to Rome...
..

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

What an interesting comment!

What an interesting comment! Thank you very much. How about my word order? Am I clear?

Three cities are main contributes to my cultural background. They are connected by deep cultural rootes and symbolize the spread of ideas from West the East. The only thing I would consider changing is replacing Istanbul by its former name, Constantinople. But it is too long.

Eumolpus

Eumolpus

7 years 1 month ago

yes

the idea flows nicely, comfortably.

Of the 3 cities, might be so but not so associated to the general reader, so for me just looked at it like a coincidence of cities with 7 hills...maybe add small thought to advise the reader that you have lives associated with these places...
Lastly , my first mentor in poetry in a creative writing class in 1967 said to me, "Never begin a poem with Like or And"....So I'm just passing it on...

Looking forward to meeting more people and places in your town!

T

tyro

7 years 1 month ago

Very vivid, i am almost

Very vivid, i am almost touching the thing described. Thanks for inviting me in to view your town, its an intriguing place.

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

Hello Tyro,

Hello Tyro,
Thank you for visiting!
Have a nice holiday.

lovedly

lovedly

7 years 1 month ago

They run in my veins.

I'd rather say

(They) warm memories run in my vein(s)
which drives me mostly/intensely insane

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

Jess and MarkL,

Jess and MarkL,
Thank you for your comments.
The beat generation is somewhat related to the Russian wave of anti-Soviet poets. Among them Brodsky, he was kicked out from mother Russia and started writing in English.
I am still to learn his American period, his Russian poems are genious
and another example of lost in translation treasure. Something I might try to fix one day if I am strong enough!

weirdelf

weirdelf

7 years 1 month ago

I was reading Yevtushenko

when I was 12.
That line still makes me shiver-
If a hundred people are beating up a man
I will never make a hundred and one.

IRiz

IRiz

7 years 1 month ago

Thank you for the line.

Thank you for the line. Translation is very good.
I have to revisit the poet. He was more flexible politically in Soviet Russia and I ignored him mostly for that.