Milton felt no frost when Damon died,
No chill eclipsed the hot Italian sun
Or touched his neck and drew an icy line
Into his heart—he did not know the pulse
Had softly stilled, the breath, the voice, the mind.
If we dwelt in Arcadia,
His flocks would weep with mine
Nor I, working in my roses, cutting
Canker from thorny limbs, twisting back
An errant branch and twining it again
Where it belonged—heat poured its June in May
And I worked silently, unaware.
If we dwelt in Arcadia,
His flocks would weep with mine
Five decades now—and we have drawn upon
Each other time and again for strength, for joy,
In sorrow, in pain—five decades … and still,
As if standing alone, I did not feel
You pass. I should have.
If we dwelt in Arcadia,
His flocks would weep with mine
I should have felt earth shake, air weep, fire chill
To ash, water freeze to solid—all
Infinites at once time-bounded, space-
Constrained. And did not. It took a phone call
From your son for me to know.
If we dwelt in Arcadia,
His flocks would weep with mine
And thus, farewell.
Author notes
Theme: Lament
An attempt at a pastoral elegy. On my computer screen, the refrain is in italics; couldn't make it so for AP.
The pastoral elegy was notorious for its apparent insincerity; Dr. Johnson in the 18th century commented that where there is leisure to mourn one's flock, there is no true sorrow. I was teaching Milton when I received the news that my only high-school friend, perhaps my only friend beyond family, had suddenly died.
So I think the poem both displaces and reconciles by then-and-now sense of loss. I should have written to him sooner.
In a list
A contest entry
- Amends by Dalaney.
300 points, ended September 3, 2007, 14 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Pre-writes Only~~! by Naridill.
750 points, ended December 6, 2007, 5 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Lost Moments by Danna Hobart.
300 points, ended January 3, 2008, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - in loving memory by Improv Machinery.
420 points, ended March 1, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Four Options/Poetry Prompts by Scion.
800 points, ended April 27, 2008, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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A very unique and non-conformist lament.. I loved the repetition and the very different take on the prompt. The poem focused on hidden rhyme and beautiful imagery- alas, it paid off.
"As if standing alone, I did not feel
You pass. I should have."
-Very powerful lines here.
On the other side, I think the grammar and flow of the poem was a little awkward. Your punctuation made for quite choppy and uneven pauses in the meter- I don't think this was your intention either. Possibly, you could really look at some places
(i.e. "Infinites at once time-bounded, space-
Constrained. And did not. It took a phone call
From your son for me to know.") - Here you could seperate these into more than three lines and place commas where the few periods are, making clauses where clauses should be. Of course, this is all suggestion;
Your poem stands solid and has a lot of substance. Wonderful job. Cheers.
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Hi, a very lovely poem, it gave me great pleasure to read this, Di
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Fantastic piece, wonderful structure with the refrain. The regret expressed here is palpable and something I can relate to very well. Just beautiful. Congrats on the trophies!
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Thank you. The comments and responses "Damon" has received here on AP have been gratifying, positive beyond expectation. I much appreciate your comments. And congratulations to you on the gold
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A very strong piece. Being a Buckly fan, I think Lady Lavender gave you a wonderful compliment.
Thabk you for entering this contest.
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I love this repetition, and I hardly ever grow to love repetition. This piece is phrased delicately but so effectively. The imagery is stunning as is the final result.
The emotions are quite strong and really lift the emotional response and relativeness to a higher level. Beautifully crafted.
Thanks for entering
much luck
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this has the qualities of a classic song...Wow if Jeff Buckley were alive I could hear him sing this.
Have you ever heard him sing Hallueyah?
Stunning write!
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No, I haven't. Thanks for the comment and the compliment. I don't usually think of my things in terms of song, probably because I can't carry a tune for more than one note; your response was a surprise and a pleasure. Thanks again.
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this is one amazing fricking piece of poetry dude
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Thank you. It was a bit scary posting it because it isn't quite like most of the things I've read at AP, so your response was welcome and heartening. Again, thanks.
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Standing alone ...
... is your poem. As refined a piece of writing, as I have had the pleasure of reading on these boards. If, there were anything to quibble over, it would be that "Time" does not constrain all infinities, but sheesh, who really cares? Fantstic poem!
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I went back through to check on Time. I think it works--Time SHOULD have bounded all infinities when he died...but it did not. But it is not as clear as it perhaps should be. I'll think on it more.
Thank you for the comment and your response.
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Interesting interplay of pain and time and memories tied together with a repetitive line that softens the blow but steals not the pain. Couched in classic style it seems more an act to ease the ache then to report upon the fact. The words a wall to hold away all the memories and not be swept away. The sadness lingers upon the soul of this reader and i know far to well the spell spoken in the heart to keep the tears that are won't to start from spilling upon the page.
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You penetrated to the intent of the poem. Thanks for stating your responses to empathetically.
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A touching, soulful, write of your loss, introspective and reflective of sorrow's grief.
" where there is leisure to mourn one's flock, there is no true sorrow"
An interesting, and very true insight, into those circumstances.
As it occurs to me, that a pastor, in essence, is a military commander of sorts,
In the war on evil, his weapons are truth and compassion, his soldiers, his flock
Having seen both pastoral war and real war, I would beg to suggest, on the other front.
"When there is no leisure to morn fallen comrades, sorrow is stifled, memories compartmentalized, to scream forth at inopportune times."
As, for us all, memories can be either the blessed heaven, or the greatest of horrors.
but yeah, I liked this write of yours. A lot.
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very elegantly written. The precise imagery painted a clear picture of such heartfelt sympathy felt for the loss of your dear friend and in a subtle way also portrayed a sense of asking for forgiveness for not 'feeling' his passing in some way. The title I think fit since you obviously think of him time and time again. I particularly favored the last line since it seemed like final closure of what you wanted to express. The guilt felt having to find out about his death from a phone call seemed unacceptable, so the end was like closure to these feelings while saying good-bye at the same time. The style is exceptional, great job.
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Thank you. This one was tricky, balancing the need to control and the flood of memories. And thanks for the comment on the last line, which was the most problematical.
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