Wish you were here

The glass bead game had its part to play,

On that formless holiday,

And chemotherapy and surgery,

And a walk across a Lancaster field one day

When I was young and broken.

 

A skylark rose so fast I froze 

looking! looking! on my toes

catch the song flying away.

 

A stuttering of a past

that does not last 

within a rhyming chiming mind

O! that charming man, I once knew

what in hell happened to you?

 

Was it you or has everything to do with a series of dreams

that leave me sweating and afraid

one-step-nearer-the-grave?

 

I was made by the holocaust of the Jews,

a new stigmata,.

I crumble to know

what my ancestors knew.

 

Another version for you:

Just what is old and what is new?

What the hell should we do?

Who do you love?

Image result for painting beautiful poor girl paintingImage result for painting beautiful poor girl painting

◄ An orthodox fugue

spring ►

Comments

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John Marks

Mon 17th Feb 2020 19:50

Thank you to my Aussie friends, Frances and Don, and, of course, to Tom and Binte, too, Thank you.

Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.
It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.

Clive James, Japanese Maple

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Don Matthews

Mon 17th Feb 2020 09:12

I'm just commenting on the structure of the poem John. I thought it was cleverly crafted.. And I like the way you incorporated rhyming into it.

Frances Macaulay Forde

Mon 17th Feb 2020 01:54

Yes, I agree with Keith. Thank you for sharing this intimate and revealing piece.

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John Marks

Sun 16th Feb 2020 22:04

Thank you Keith and Cathy.

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keith jeffries

Sun 16th Feb 2020 20:52

John,

A wondrously reflective poem which requires of the reader to ponder on life, the past and the unknown. The third stanza is truly excellent.

Thank you for this

Keith

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