Day: November 20, 2017

Love dies like a tree

It takes a long time for a tree to die.
Though its trunk be almost severed with the axe
There was plenty of sap above
Then the leaves began to wither
and fall though it was spring time…
It takes a long time,to forget.

Not to remember
How to live.
First. the tree stops growing.
It pauses, as if waiting for a message.
Then, as I said, the leaves turn brown.
It all takes time.Time to stop waiting
The leaves drop, then the smaller branches shrivel.
Humans also find that when ill, the hair may stop growing
And the fingernails.
We sacrifice the less important pieces of ourselves.
Even the most.
The small branches shrivel and dry out.
Yet the tree still looks alive
Then gradually we notice it’s drying out;
its branches are parched and soon the trunk dries too.
It may split in places and insects make their home there.
It takes a long time before the trunk dies.
From the top down it dies.
The sap is too limited in quantity
To climb the trunk.
So the sap stays near the ground
.Eventually the whole tree seems dead
Yet in the roots, there is still subterranean life.
The tree has died and is now brown and leaning a little sideways
No longer magnificent in display.
Time is all it needed
After the sharp cut.
And sometimes the roots are strong enough
To begin to send up new shoots
Another tree may grow.
.I have seen that.
People, of course, die more quickly.
We have no roots.
And what of love, how does love die?
Like a tree,
like a tree,
 Like a tree
Like a tree.

Sparks

The reading lamp makes bright sparks on blue glass
I feel  the beauty of this quiet day,
The  lavender is dull  and dry  in vase

So  for eight hours  the sun   sends  rays to us
But later it falls darkly  to dismay
Would I were a child that heedless plays

Much lavender is pressed to oil, alas
For fortune favours those who’re on the way
The  lavender seems dull  and dry  in vase

Do not call me narcissist for this
I love perfumed oils to charm display
The reading lamp  remember  this blue glass

Behind the ears and on the inner wrist
Perfume attracts men to be our mates
The  lavender seems dull, as if disgraced

Thanks to  those green  gods who  made our state
The trees bow down in worship and in praise.
For eight hours the sun enlightens, plays.
Would I were a child with heedless days

Winter coat

Rosemary  grows by my  old wooden bench
The various cats will gather  there at dusk
They wail in unison as if bereft
And in the moonlight their eyes amber spark.

The day is grey and dull and very still
I search for warmer clothes  and stouter shoes
The rain hangs over with a hint of hail
As if the gods of heaven leave a clue.

Silence can be menacing, unkind
But when at peace I love its fuller charm
Yet I have all my senses, am not blind
And in my mind, I feel an ideal calm

I hid my winter coat  to make  more space
Yet now I cannot find  a single trace

I

 

The pursuit of form by Robert Pinsky

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/70037/the-pursuit-of-form

 

“Here’s another way of thinking about “body knowledge” and poetry: pursuing excellence, athletes and musicians willingly, even eagerly, submit themselves to tedious, grinding repetition and analysis. They try to cultivate by practice the most effective way of doing each thing, each best movement so reliably summoned that you don’t need to think about it in the fluid, immediate, rapid, intuitive performance of your skills. The goal, in a word used by those who work in these pursuits: to perfect their form.

But beyond that process, or extending it, true form is creative. As a verb, “form” means to make or generate. (In a neat parallel, the verb “generate” is related to the noun “genre.”) Coaches rightly speak of the best form, but there is no mechanical template: true form is what each person discovers, enhancing or adapting it each time. Form is what makes the batted ball sail over the fence, or the leaping dancer sail across the stage, and for no two people is the successful form exactly alike. Similarities may be important, and they are worth studying, but the best form has an element of idiosyncrasy. Everyone is different. And in practice, any one person will hit the ball or leap a bit differently each time.

In keeping with that flexibility, form should be transformative and original. It can elevate the ordinary, re-sharpen the familiar:

You that seek what life is in death
Now find it air that once was breath:
New names unknown, old names gone,
Till time end bodies, but souls none.
Reader! then make time, while you be,
But steps to your eternity.”