Hope Shifts Tectonic
Hope Shifts Tectonic
by John Bennett
The most
dangerous
hatred is
silent.
The most
dangerous
love is
self-centered.
The most
dangerous
speech is
the diatribe.
The most
dangerous
persuasion is
political.
Two people
are pals
three’s
competition
ten or
more
is a gang.
Thirty-five is a
lynch mob
after that
it’s the
Super Bowl
& political
rallies the
cross of
Jesus &
the star
of David a
crescent moon &
the Bodhi tree.
I may have
said something
different yesterday
but this
is today &
hope shifts
tectonic
under the
terra firma
we stand on.
This is quite remarkable. Great use of anaphora by the way…
a·naph·o·ra
   [uh-naf-er-uh]
noun
1.
Also called epanaphora. Rhetoric . repetition of a word or words at the beginning of two or more successive verses, clauses, or sentences. Compare epistrophe ( def. 1 ) , symploce.
2.
Grammar . the use of a word as a regular grammatical substitute for a preceding word or group of words, as the use of it and do in I know it and he does too. Compare cataphora.
3.
( sometimes initial capital letter ) Eastern Church .
a.
the prayer of oblation and consecration in the Divine Liturgy during which the Eucharistic elements are offered.
b.
the part of the ceremony during which the Eucharistic elements are offered as an oblation.
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Origin:
1580–90; < Late Latin < Greek: a bringing back, repeating, equivalent to ana- ana- + -phora, akin to phérein to carry, bring; compare -phore, -phorous
Related forms
a·naph·o·ral, adjective
pre·a·naph·o·ral, adjective
Dictionary.com Unabridged
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2012.
Smooth poem.
It moved me. Maybe not earth-shakingly so but I felt it.
It reminds me vaguely of The Genius of The Crowd by Bukowski, a poem I like very much. Well done. I must say that beyond poetic jargon I find your poem has wonderful depth. It triggers a lot of emotions and memories. There are numerous poets who have fine words and rhythm and yet their talents never blossom into prose with substance. They are fresh bread made with the best ingredients that still comes out of the oven tasteless dry and dense despite its pretty appearance. This of course if the fault of the chef. You cook well. Your poem achieves deep insights with the ease and simplicity necessary to be accessible. Truth mixed with obscure frankness. I like it.