Tags
Allegory of the Cave, australian formal poetry, Australian traditional poetry, Plato, poem, poetry, sonnet
I’m sick of being chained to this cold rock;
I’m sure you all are just as bored as I,
But here’s my secret: I have picked the lock,
And in a moment, from this cave I’ll fly.
I’m tired of forms that flicker on the walls;
I’m off to find the source of shade and light.
“Philosopher!” – The wider world it calls;
The truth I’m sure is not so black and white.
I’m back! And now I’ll tell you what I saw:
These shifting shadows aren’t reality!
But what! You say my rantings you’ll ignore?
Remind me of my frail mortality?
Perhaps you’re right – I didn’t see the sun;
In any case, you’re many, I’m but one.
dnobrienpoetry 
Dennis, this is really good!
Thanks, I submitted this to a poetry journal and thought it might get the nod – but no. I rather like it myself.
Those kinds of decisions are always so subjective. If an editor has a personal prejudice against a topic, a form, a word, etc., he can’t seem to look past it to judge a work on its own merits. The other thing I notice is that so often editors are stuck in a rut, and if the piece doesn’t fit the mold they’re comfortable with, they don’t give it a chance. Maybe you could submit to another outlet. Surely somebody out there in periodical land has enough good taste to like it.
No, no. Leave me in the cave with projected images – pleeeeeze