My grieving in itself
contains lessons
on your passing.

The holy gestures, to believers,
do not signify an abiding end.
Forever kneels in silence
as you sing on the other side.

Trying to fathom the distance
you’ve gone, I’m sunk in depths
undiminished by tingling aphorisms
from aging poets’ breath and wisdom.

I confess I have been self-absorbed,
carrying excess the full distance.
I missed some of your breakthroughs,
your dreams, your thoughts,
when you offered words so alive
with singularity that anyone who heard
might have gasped and taken pause.







My grieving in itself contains
lessons on your passing;
I don’t pretend to know answers,
only questions occupy me now.
Forever kneels in silence
as you sing on the other side.
The holy gestures, to believers,
do not signify an abiding end.

Trying to fathom the distance
you’ve gone, I’m sunk in depths
undiminished by tingling aphorisms
from aging poets’ breath and wisdom.

I confess I have been self-absorbed
carrying excess the full distance.
I missed some of your breakthroughs,
when you offered words so alive
with singularity that anyone who heard
might have gaspéd and taken páuse.



(revision 1)
On the knees of forever, silence
sings with you. Believers question
holiness vaunted, death memorialized
as the end.

Transparencies stretch ad infinitum,
thoughts seek seaward depths
undiminished, uncolored by conjecture
or aging poets’ tingling reminders
of breath and wisdom.

In explorations of our mounting detritus,
sorted out, it becomes all too apparent
we have been too much in ourselves
without hearkening to another’s wish,
or dream, or pulsing consciousness
declared in jumping, twisting sounds
so alive with singularity we might pause
at the threshold and gape and gasp.







(original)



What a light upon the carefree,
the knees of silence forever forever,
sing with you the vaunted holiness
of death in memoriam, understood
to be the end, noone knows do they.

Transparencies multiplied ad infinitum,
your thought stretching out seaward
undiminished by conjecture, lies,
summations of famous bygone poets
languishing in memories fraught
with the tingling reminders of breath
and wisdom at once.

Out upon a tenuous backyard exploration,
the common detritus sorted out, apparent,
we have all been too much in ourselves,
noone grabs hold of another’s wish,
or dream, or pulsing awareness declared
in jumping, twisting, sounds so alive
we pause at the threshold and gape and gasp.

This has great depth like that heavy feeling in the air before a storm. No real suggestions at this point but I like the seriousness here, a poem to be reread for sure. Don't let the slowness of replies discourage you, this is good work.

Thanks Critter - I've been on a slight Joycean jag lately, and yes, I do like the form in which this emerged. RC

I've read and enjoyed this one too, Richard. Profound, deep.

Can't suggest anything now, except to say that it has lovely rhythm, some lines even appear to have meter.

Certainly a poem to re-read, before jumping in and commenting.

Syl

I really like this one, RC. Nothing at all to nit.
I see that you've made a stunning revision without any specific suggestions from anybody.

I was going to nit the two 'forever's', but you've already fixed that!

Really good work, here. A pleasure to read...and ponder.

Syl

This is quite a radical revision from the original, but, I hopé, clearer. RC

Yes, indeed, Richard. A radical change, but it's even better and certainly easier to understand.

I don't know why, but you've got several words with accents that shouldn't be there.
Take a look!

Cheers, Syl

Syl - I have a Spanish language keyboard, bought here in Colombia so those accents are part of it, didn't realize it when I bought it. Glad you like this revision. R

Hi Richard,
I hope you hang on to this Spanish keyboard. It shouldn't cause you any trouble. The French ones are the same. May come in handy.
Mine is Spanish/French and I'm quite happy with it.
As I said, very good revision.
Syl

Hi Richard,

I'm late coming to this one and see I haven't commented until now. This poem has improved with each revision and now, as far as I can see you have perfection.

Eira