Monday, December 13, 2010

Tuesday Poem: Increasingly by Harvey McQueen

.
INCREASINGLY

Despite memory -
‘tiny, native narcissi
midst distant massif
verge & meadows’ -
my cruel malady
spurs me to confess
increasingly, I
long for oblivion

Harvey McQueen

Maybe I’ve compressed too much but this is my final personal poem for the Tuesday blog site for 2010. I  finished it this morning.

The poem originated with these lines.
‘Flame & moth
attract, hover, merge.’
Along the way I rejected them as old hat as I did a further two words ‘larks overhead’ after ‘meadows’. 'Midst' and 'verge' kept hovering about. There was an archaic feel about them which I felt summed up memory. Was the French massif really like that. I recall fields glittering with little flowers and inhabited by large cows. The skylarks I also recall but were they in the Loire valley with cuckoos calling from the woodlands - the lure of Europe to a colonial lad.

 I try very hard to be positive and cheerful despite my malady, illness, ailment, call it what you will – it’s relentless. But every now and then I crumble. I did so late last week. The result was this poem.

It’s true. Also untrue! I look at it, say it, & then feel its trite, feel its truth, a bite of sensation that existed. A moment, a mood, a measure, a melancholy, moonshine & melody! It’s out there for your reaction and scrutiny. I’ve had a good day today. The poem captures a bad day a few days ago. Such is the nature of poetry.

3 comments:

  1. I came to this post late Monday night and felt deeply moved by your poem. Today I read the accompanying words and feel a pang; an upstitch.

    Have to go write poetry now; a response less trite than this comment I hope...

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  2. Harvey, this is powerful in its economy. I have read it over many times and each time each individual word flowers differently. But the end didn't flower in the first reading nor the last. Oblivion is a dark, unflowering thing, sucking the colour, the light. I am sorry it seems to call you sometimes and am happy it isn't now. May it stay that way over this season - more sun would help, more birds, more flowers. Thank you for your posts this year. They have illuminated the world for me.

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  3. Harvey, I've been trying to think of something profound and meaningful to write, but I can't, except to say thank you for sharing the poems and just--kia kaha; arohanui.

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