The rough old stone slid
smoothly
down the muddy bank
into the river;
in time, its rough edges
will be softened by the action of the water
and the rain.
The water-maids
making their way through the new mown hay
chatter endlessly
the river caresses the stone
the maids grow old and pass away
new ones take their places
chatter endlessly
the river rolls along.
as with all toil,
overseers with long tails poise to leap
upon the unwary,
bread in the dry season,
when the river is low
the ox slow,
and the beasts bask in the sun
on the dry mud.
I journey north with the stone
my heart heavy with sad songs
the knives and chisels of my trade
grind against my thigh
My name was called from the high-place
drawing out the river-stone
from the new urn,
it will echo in the valleys
until I return
weighted with rewards
from the cities of gold,
a master of the old Lies
what is said is not
bread in the dry season
when the river is low
the thieves with broken fingers
will wait in wine shops
fine chains hanging from their throats,
their women will emit low moans
while the river flows.
I displeased the gods
my psalms did not praise the priests
in their long robes
I make new bread when the river is low,
and watch through the haze
as they pass in their low chairs.
as Night breaks into pieces
and the chariot rises,
the rowers chant their songs
the numbers mean nothing anymore,
the hours underneath the stone are endless,
the pigments stain my hands,
the light uncertain,
upon my pallet
I make new bread
in unbroken night.
Author notes
without truth there is no justice
without justice there is no injustice
without injustice there is no tragedy
without tragedy there is no poetry
Written July 6th, 2006
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I must be slow or just a dodo,
I was just thinking how much I love the title of your poem (so whimsical and inventive and it tripped me up a bit the first time I said it in my mind)
when I realised that this poem must be for option 3 in the contest, about earth in the future, hence the date 2076.
Am I right or just barking up the wrong tree?
Let me know.
Kind regards
Previn -
Hey this is awesome stuff,
you didn't state which option this is for but I dont really need to guess, its definitely option 4.
And for that option this is exactly what I'm looking for, you captured the brief perfectly.
A great opening however the tense was not consistent, switching from past to present in the same stanza, its normally better to separate in that case. Unless of course you did that intentionally to create an effect?
Great authors comments, loved it!!!
This part was stunning,
"I journey north with the stone
my heart heavy with sad songs
the knives and chisels of my trade
grind against my thigh
My name was called from the high-place
drawing out the river-stone
from the new urn
it will echo in the valleys
until I return
weighted with rewards
from the cities of gold,
a master of the old Lies
what is said is not
bread in the dry season
when the river is low"
I sensed wonderful movement and expression in those two stanzas.
Thank you for entering my contest.
Previn
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This is like two poems on the same page - the top one and the short version in the author comments. Well done.
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I was just out in horizontal rain. I am soaked. and Freezing and should not be here reading poems but somewhere getting warm. However, on my way home I heard this song:
In 1950 when I was born
Papa couldn't afford to buy us much
He said be proud of what you are
There's something special 'bout people like us
People like us
(Who will answer the telephone)
People like us
(Growing as big as a house)
People like us
(Gonna make it because)
We don't want freedom
We don't want justice
We just want someone to love.
Someone to love.
I was called upon in the 3rd grade class
I gave my answer and it caused a fuss
I'm not the same as ev'ryone else
And times were hard for people like us
What good is freedom?
God laughs at people like us
I see it coming
Like a light coming down from above
The clouds roll by and the moon comes up
How long must we live in the heat of the sun
Millions of people are waitin' on love
And this is a song about people like us
People like us
(Who will answer the telephone)
People like us
(Growing big as a house)
People like us
(Gonna make it because)
We don't want freedom
We don't want justice
We just want someone to love.
Someone to love.
Someone to love.
Someone to love.
Hey this is a pretty decent poem. Keep up the good work.
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The author's note is my favorite part. Seriously, I feel like watching Discovery Channel and As The World Turns at the same time! But maybe because it's getting cold... Hmmm, I really like this poem, one of the best poems I've read since I've joined this site. You have my applause.
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Hot here. Came for a dip in the river. Sad though. -
You are such a talented writer and such a pleasure to read.....intelligent are your works, always leaving one to think on your words long after they have been read. Awsome job done here and as for your Authors comments.....so very true. I stand and applaud you.
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I really like this, it fits together so well. It has fluidity. And it's just brilliant and interesting.
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very nice poem; I like shewolfnative's remark "a soothsayer's poem." unease in riverī. The coxswain calling, crew boats rowing.
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this is such an interestingpoem.....a soothsayer's poem. Your iamges are strong and the unease palpatable.
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If I could help you with your graphology, I would. However, I do not know what graphology is. I do know, though, that Night breaking into pieces makes me quite crazy.
Sad in the way poetry is supposed to be. Can't help almost feeling a heavy heart as the reader. And yes, does flow like a river. I like rivers. I got one right down the street. Brackish though -- runs into Nantucket Sound eventually. I live down near the end or the beginning I guess -- where the snapping turtles are and the blue herons and other creatures hang out. It has a bit of wind then out to a circle with all sorts of beautiful marsh grasses and stuff all around it. Once though, Sammy and his friend got stuck in the mud there while catching fish -- had to pull them out. Wasn't easy that mud sucks you in good. There are lilac bushes on the upper bank and cattails down below. Sun sets over it -- it is very pretty. Like this poem. I hope you win something.
Lisa
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It took a few reads of this to get into the flow of this.. something I feel may be helped with more use of punctuation and revising the lengths of a couple of the lines perhaps. While it currently vaguely echoes the flow of a river, the graphology hindered my reading of an otherwise beautiful write. This is truly wonderful, the imagery is so real and effective, and the style of narrative compliments the ideas within it very well.
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This is such a buffet of imagery. It almost felt like the recollections of a past life, and I love the style, the storytelling aspect never overshadowed the poetic nature of this work and vice versa.
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I was held along every word of this journey. I have been to the river and carried my own stones. This is splendid - such a wonderful flow just like a river, serene and a little treacherous. Ah, bread - the staple of all staples - I think it is man's greatest invention.
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