Unnerving: how the night makes us tremble
as light from streetlamps, caught beneath the eaves,
tumbles, like an orange disassembled
or snow off trees: strange stars between the leaves.
Dew pretends to pearl, glitters on the grass
like memories to tears that photos find
while all the poet’s words stream through a glass
and not a mirror honestly designed:
but there must be a truth that you and I can find.
We dare not touch the stillness that surrounds
for fear we break the silence we have weaned
from man’s dark hands where cruelty abounds
and selfishness parades as soldiers, gleaned
from noble thoughts of duty, dreams of light,
lessons for the young to follow, cheated
by these cheap and hollow histories, bright
inside their time but, by life, bitterly defeated
for death, uncaring god, will not be entreated.
An eastern moon hangs, quieting the day
with pitted smile and shadow painted hands.
No russet fox sniffs, seeking out its prey
and no owl calls a note across the bands
of soundless time that swallow up this dream.
We take this walk as if to say goodbye;
as if this night, somehow, someday, will mean
we took the time, we never took, to cry.
Your face will grace the ground and I will leave to fly.
Heaven is a devil’s dream; a pleasant
form of desert, a pyramid desire
made for all men, king as fine as peasant,
beyond which even angels can’t aspire.
I walk alone, absorbing all you give
as presence, ghost of beauty gone,
and, sensing you, I do not fear to live:
we are as one with life and then move on.
I will sing this silence and you will hear my song.
Author notes
To my father, as he was.
An elegy written in the Spenserian form.
In a list
A contest entry
- Winklings Celebrates its 100th Contest (A Series) - Contest I by Winklings.
6000 points, ended August 25, 8 entries
Honorable winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 22 of 22
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This poem is what you say it is:
an elegy written in Spenserian stanzas. Unlike some of the love poems in this contest, there is a sense of genuine feeling here. It is not manufactured. Yet there is a necessary distancing imagistic control where the elements of true art may be explored. You have all the stops pulled out, judiciously. I cannot begin here without an embarrassingly long critique.
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Superior
You really pulled out the intersices in the walls with this. I am humbled by your lamentation as it is genuine and your thoughts are speaking about the dead without the consent of the living. Also, you've revived a sonnet form, yet again, from disuse. You have done something incredible by writing without an awkward area; besides, I teared up.
"We take this walk as if to say goodbye;
as if this night, somehow, someday, will mean
we took the time, we never took, to cry.
Your face will grace the ground and I will leave to fly."
"I will sing this silence and you will hear my song."
I have "Listen (An elegy)" on my bookmarks and hope you enjoy the following song as a thank you:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmnLBPENNys
Congradulations on being in the Spotlight!
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Truly pleased to see this piece in the spotlight. Exactly where poetry of this caliber should be. YAY Congratulations. ~Pamela
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This is beautiful... I've never really read this form before, but I love it. I wouldn't change a thing.
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"I will sing this silence and you will hear my song."
I wish i could write something like this to my father but i'm sure he will hear me through your song. Beautiful, moving poetry.
~ Nicolette
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very nice
a very nice honest write for the prompt . . liked "tumbles, liked an orange disassembled" and "but there must be a truth that you and I can find" . . good luck in the contest
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Fathomless. A coup of ball lightning: rare, leaving one dumbfounded by its brilliance. You never fail to leave me inspired and cognizant of my mortality.
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This was sincere and very dark. It sounded biblical and inspirational of "Heaven is a devil's dream" That line can be deeper then it is that explains why the devil is jeoulous that it tries to not let people get to heaven. Very inspirtaional that line made me feel good now. I was feeling a little depressed seperated from family from friends feeling seperate from a man. Heaven is a devil's dream. A dream that the devil can never be in.
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Bravo! Standing in applause
I am absolutely moved to tears. Beautifully written with such wonderful descriptives and pure emotion. Your last two lines, simply blew me away with truths that only live in that special place. So many other lines I felt in this elegy as well. OH What a gift to have read such a beautiful verse today.
Thank you. ~Pamela
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gobsmacked
This elegy rolls deliciously on the tongue and mind, while grabbing the heart with a palpable vengeance. What more can one ask of art?
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No russet fox sniffs, seeking out its prey
and no owl calls a note across the bands
of soundless time that swallow up this dream.
We take this walk as if to say goodbye
That certainly does it for me. This is a great piece of writing beyondthe ovbious that would make even Grey envious or more to the point Spenser. You are a class act and this is an ode to loss that really aches.
Heaven is a devil’s dream
But I am sure your father does hear this song. Loved it!
By the way, I have not read you for such a long time and speaking of loss, that has probably been one of mine that up to this point I had not realised.
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Haunting
You writing morphs the night and it's tones of darkness into a somber rainbow of caring and loss. You truly sing the silence into an eloquent melody. Thank you.
. Rewarded 4
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Listening...Wow, just the beginning owrds caught my attention. And as I read further you could feel the love being poured out to the one you lost. All poets words stream through a glass! Cheer's to you then!
Tish
. Rewarded 4
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Take this as a complimentary advisment: Move the first stanza as the last stanza
I say this because its that opening stanza that just wow'ed the hell out of me (keeping in mind that's a very rare thing to do). I know that the opening stanza of any write should knock the reader into wanting to read the entire poem but....man kudos on knocking me on my ass with this!
. Rewarded 8
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Point taken - and thanks very much for your comment!!!
Sigh - I wish I could have written three opening stanzas! But, who doesn't want to write perfect poetry? lol
If this had been written as free-form, rather than in a strict classical format, I would have repeated the first line as a single line on its own at the end - but written:
Unnerving: how the night makes us tremble...
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Why stick to the form so closely that it inhibits what you want to express?
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form
Thanks for your comment.
The competition calls for a strict classical format poem.
Generally, though, I go with my instinct as to which way a poem should be written. Somehow the choice of form or free tends to change the direction of what I'm writing - thinking...
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I will sing this silence and you will hear my song.
if only you knew my life, you would understand how this last line affected me. you wrote this very well. i wish you luck in this contest that you have entered. thank you for sharing this with me today and i wish you the very best of luck in this contest. viyanna rosemarie
. Rewarded 6
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I will bookmark this piece. I enjoyed the flow of the rhyme scheme and the movement of the internal rhyming within, which seems to give it extra life and form. I will make an effort to study this Spenserian form as I find it very appealing.
'like memories to tears that photos find
while all the poet’s words stream through a glass
and not a mirror honestly designed:
but there must be a truth that you and I can find.'
The words and images suggest a complex relationship, things unsaid and a closeness that has remained allusive, bound by duty rather than true emotions expressed easily by the heart.
A fine write indeed.
. Rewarded 8
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Such imagery and use of strong symbolism. I love this piece. It was the first I read today and it will probably be the last one as I intend to come and read it again to see what I missed the first time. Pen on fellow poet...
. Rewarded 4
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No other piece of poetry has effected me like this one has today...Absolutely brilliantly written, my friend, and the images you have given me are priceless. This will go bookmarked as one of my favorites. Love, Lane
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Software stole the sense
which had written its response as I watched the words arrive on screen. Almost done, its praise was hidden beneath the inevitability of its form, exact and preordained. Expert use of rhyme and gentleness, enjambments as needed, and wealth of impressions. This review is not as good as the one that vanished in the stroke of a wrong key, I hope will express the feeling it was right.
It was not only in the devices that belonged when used; the internal rhyme in "Your face will grace the ground " or the personification of death, a metaphor,
"bitterly defeated
for death, uncaring god, will not be entreated."
[ "for" used here as "because"]
The unremitting truth of that is known best by those who watched a loved one die, as I did when my dad, more than forty years ago, 1964, accepted his demise, closed his eyes, and smiled.
"presence, ghost of beauty gone,
and, sensing you, I do not fear to live:"
So true! The presence is real, and still finds me after all these years.
"I will sing this silence and you will hear my song."
Yes. For the rest of your life it will be so.
I saved a copy of your poem to read again. Thank you.
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