Coming Across Her Death Again

 

between two sonnets

on the back of a picture

one written for her

 

  

You came to that dark and forbidding place

Not by purpose, plan or conscious desires;

The words in your poems could not erase

The pain you believed redemption requires. 

Perhaps you were right; I knew not your sin,

If mortal, venial, or even real.

But that was a place where I too had been

And could never return to help you heal.

 

They read all your words but missed their meaning;

Complimented your pain, the passion there;

Offered their affection without seeming

To care what it was you could never share.

I gave you my words, never to be read,

And now I have grown old, and you are dead.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 689 times
Written on 2015-03-31 at 02:12

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shells
Straightforward and complicated both a the same time. I too keep rereading and seem to get more out of it with every read.
2015-03-31



Almost Elizabethan in form and subject matter, but also pleasingly contemporary. A study of loss. Youth, a loved one. And also perhaps about poetry itself--how we sometimes get lost in the beauty and presentation of a poem, but neglect the real, live person who wrote the words. We grasp the pain and the passion, but the poet herself remains just a shadow.

Like all really good poetry, this one demands several readings and can be read on various levels. There's a lot there.
2015-03-31


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
I have read and reread this many times and will do so again and again as a reminder of what poetry is supposed to be and what it should convey. The rhyme, meter and rythm is impeckable and yet is not seen because the thought and texture of the piece is so powerful. Thanks, my friend.

Joe
2015-03-31



This poem speaks so much truth that it can apply to most anyone we have known, and lost. The words so clear and so carefully chosen. This one I am keeping ... bookmarking. A memory that manages to tell so much while avoiding being too sentimental.
Ashe
2015-03-31