Friday, May 7, 2010

Something Old New Borrowed Blue



Old (a Rondeau)

In the whole scheme of things
Life has fairly short wings.
Long enough to grow old
And old age can be cold.
Some memories have stings.

Photographs, wedding rings,
The songs he sometimes sings.
Like lasting spores of mold
In the whole scheme of things.

Still some memory clings
Of their exchanging rings.
He stood in tux quite bold.
That memory not dulled
In the whole scheme of things

New

Vivacity in white,
White on white,
The white of new,
The white of fresh.

Who on such purity can gaze?
How like staring at the face of God.
I do.
Trim as a reed is she, I fear to breathe,
Exhaling may bend and blow away such fragility.

What wonderful exquisiteness this dreamer mist.
How can it be clasped, who could, who would?
I do,
Trembling as I teeter on wakefulness
Even as I grasp for a hand of flesh and warmth.

Where am I now? It’s as if I’m there, still new in awkwardness.
How it seems a tick of the clock stole that spoken vow:
I do,
That solemn phrase that made us whole, made us one,
Eternal we thought then, telluric I know now.


Borrowed

Ah, her mother began to cry:
Itsy bitsy tears
Roll down the woman’s snout.
Out came her hanky
To smear the tears about.

Blue

In today’s today the sky is an empty blue
Echoed by the azure of the stone.
Blue was her favorite color,
Which is why I picked it with ease.
A Celastrina rests upon it now,
Calm and unafraid, wings gently folded,
Rippling some in the gentle breeze.

She loved my eyes because they were blue.
Her own were brown, she wished for mine.
I’d gladly give them to her and go blind,
I only gaze in mind upon her now.

The butterfly silently departs,
Its shadow flutters as a flicker
Across the potted Forget-me-nots
To the Chicory beyond and distant.
And the blue sky dims toward twilight,
Into a kind of slate and steel hue
Where now my life is lived in blue.

And still I stay, I haven’t moved.
Fireflies flash now all about.
In the whole scheme of things.
Life has fairly too short wings.


Photo of Celastrina by Jim Asher





An appreciative thank you to Thursday Poets Rally for Perfect Poets Award, week 50.

I nominate for
Award, Kay Salady, at
"My Mind is Frozen."





3 comments:

Elaine Danforth said...

Hey Larry,

So glad to find your blog(by the fact that you so kindly read and commented on mine.

It seems you took the suggestion to write in a form and ran with it.

I love it! I'm very impressed, it's beautiful and funny (the woman's snout, one of the laugh-inducing parts).

It took me a third reading to interpret that this is about a woman who has died. While I loved the poem from the start, the sadness and rich complexity of how it all fits together emerged with more attention to it.

I admire the poem, and am sorry for your loss if this is about your life and your wife.

Before I realized that important sad aspect to the work, my attention was also drawn to one of your images in the last stanza, which reminded me of a couple of poems I wrote. If you feel like checking them out, here are the links.

http://elainedanforth.wordpress.com/2010/12/12/the-blush-of-summer-dusk/
http://elainedanforth.wordpress.com/2010/10/18/twilight-in-the-district/

You make me want to try a rondo or some other form I've never worked, to see what I could do, but I would have to be pleased if I did half as well as you did with this.

Keep up your wonderful work.

The Cello Strings said...

thought provoking piece.

bless you.
keep it up.

duncancleary said...

Good stuff, more please.