Posts tagged loss
Art and Earth
Because earth Without Art is Just "Eh."
7 notes &
60 Plays
THE FALL OF A POET (RAGLAN ROAD)
(Please click on arrow above to play song).
On Raglan Road on an autumn day,
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue.
I saw the danger and yet I passed
Along the enchanted way
And I said let grief be a falling leaf
At the dawning of the day.
On Grafton street in November,
We stepped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worlds of passions pledged.
The queen of hearts still baking tarts
And I not making hay,
For I loved too much; by such, by such
Is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind.
I gave her secret signs
That’s known to artists who have known
the gods of sound and rhyme
But words and tint without stint
I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her own dark hair
Like the clouds over fields of May.
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet,
I see her walking now. Away from me,
so hurriedly. My reason must allow,
for I have wooed, not as I should
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay, he’ll lose
His wings at the dawn of the day.
On Raglan Road on an autumn day,
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue.
I saw the danger and I passed
Along the enchanted way
And I said let grief be a falling leaf
At the dawning of the day.
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Ann says: Wow. I read this as a romance between an intuitive (the poet) and a sensor (the woman) which is doomed due to her inability to appreciate poetry. Not having their work appreciated might serve as a mortal blow to any artist.
Raglan Road written by Patrick Kavanaugh, performed by The Twilight Lords. Image: Cobalt Blue and Heavenly Ambiance by Nik Helbig.
4 notes &
She is Gone (Death of a Mother) by Stephen Berwaldt
in somber silence
we say goodbye
to one we’ve loved
like the lowering of the flag
to mournful “Taps” at end of day
she joins the silent
in the grave
no longer will her laughter ring
across the dell
22 notes &
Sail Away by Susan Budig
I’ve had my ear to the rail forty-six days and counting.
Three yards up the line, my sister huddles,
waiting, same as me.
Hearing something
I jerk my head up,
study the horizon.
But, no, it is nothing,
perhaps the whine of an airplane overhead;
its contrail divides the sky in half.
My sister clears her throat.
In the alfalfa field small birds
like warbler and nuthatch, flit from stalk to stalk.
I lay my ear down once more.
The steel rail warm and soothing against my skin.
Its smoothness is like a sharp, sharp blade,
ready to slice a tomato.
Now I hear rumbling.
Under the palm of my hand, vibration.
With my head on the trestle,
I see a plume of white, smoky steam
unfurling in the sky.
A finger pointing,
but not at me.
The vibrato becomes a shuddering.
The grumble, a deafening roar.
I crouch,
horrified and immobile.
With a scream, the locomotive is upon me,
shaking me senseless like dice in a cup.
Yet it misses me,
as if I were invisible.
I sit up after the last car passes,
watching my sister as she sails away,
her brown hair laughing with the wind.
Poem copyright 2011 by Susan Budig.
Stock image courtesy of Google Image.
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35 notes &
The Last Fugue, a Pantoum Poem by Susan Budig
That’s the way it sounds to me
My hand dragging in the water
As you bow her violin in key
We laugh and drink Vichy water
My hand dragging in the water
The contrails in the sky
We laugh and drink Vichy water
You say her name, but I don’t cry
The contrails in the sky
Hang like my heart in stasis
You say her name, but I don’t cry
I give you my last quarter with two faces
Hang like my heart in stasis
Until it bursts into a fistful of coins
I give you my last quarter with two faces
Throw it in her grave, I enjoin
Until it bursts into a fistful of coins
As you bow her violin in key
Throw it in her grave, I enjoin
That’s the way it sounds to me
Poem copyright 2011 by Susan Budig.
Stock image courtesy of Google Image.
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