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