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Moonset at Winter's End
Standing at
winter's end with
all its
glossy hunger
after walking
with the
pilgrim forest
for too long
and hearing
all its
phantom wails,
its brittle,
long complaints,
after running
from the
icy wolf packs
of your fears,
the air is
finally emptied
of struggle
like a dying breath
turning to
hymns,
like agony
turning to
gold.
Your will,
a separate will,
searches the night,
searches the
nonnegotiable
emptiness—
light year after
light year
of puzzling
happiness—
for the morning
you remember.
Black water
promises a grave
and an emergence,
plunges deep,
strolls with
Spirit,
splinters the
cold heavens,
always in step
with the
double moon:
one primitive,
one captive,
both calling to
what is
within you.
Look up
from the illusion.
There it is:
the first pulses of
who you really are:
Something ending,
Something just beginning,
Something very much
like the rising sun.
Patricia Joan Jones
Its been too long So much
Its been too long
So much going on
Sorry dear,
Now let's enjoy your take
Life and fear
So many great lines and ideas
Duality and insight
I loved this:
"searches the
nonnegotiable
emptiness—"
Just wow.
The wolf has nothing on you but it leads the way to the hunting grounds...
For clues to you
Who you are
Begins and ends
Where the old you ends,
and new you begins...
A challenging and inspiring journey...
Hugss
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
I am so deeply moved and
I am so deeply moved and honored by the insightful artistry, the kind encouragement, of your comment. I certainly understand time restraints, and the fact that you took the time to read, appreciate and comment on my work means so much. A resounding "Thank you!"
The winter in its hungered
The winter in its hungered death, challanges patience, delaying hope and its bounty, leaving us adrift to its will.
Yet when painted by hands that also recognize the beauty, the rewards that await those who dream, who conquer, even themselves, the truth is unmistakeable. Your inspiring words always resonate deeply, you write of hope, the beauty of truth that is often overlooked in life, and the remembering that if we look close enough, we may still find some of those traits in ourselves. uh, I'm running out of adjectives, so, neato.
You defined, with radiance
You defined, with radiance and startling precision, my intention in this work and several others. I'm overflowing with fulfillment and humble gratitude. A thousand thank-you's for this eloquent gift.
First, please accept my
First, please accept my sincere gratitude for the mention in the notes. You know how much I admire your Poetry, and the importance it has for this site and those who part of the community. In the four years that I have been following your Poetry, you have given me the great experience of seeing a real, vital, and formidable Poet expanding a work in progress into a complete collection. I studied this at college---but only among the dead Poets. I never dared hope to see it happen, in real time and living color, from a contemporary Poet, but you have privileged me to be able to watch happen right in my line of sight.
The short lines with which you have formatted this poem give an impression of verbal agility, a choreography of concepts and images that only a Poet of your quality can compose and present. The poem's center of gravity is in the stanza "Something ending, / Something just beginning" to which, in the final two lines, you attach the simile of sunrise. The beauty of the Cosmos is that is is always in process, something ending (when certain stars extinguish the last of their fusable atoms) and something beginning (star arising from the coalescence of atoms in great quantities until gravity is achieved, then leading to ignition). You are a Cosmic Poet, and you bring to your readers not only a knowledge of these processes, but a reminder that our skies are not static, but are filled with all sorts of processes.
You orchestrate the movement of the cosmic processes by describing them in present tense verbs, or verbs that are suffixed "-ing." This strategy, coupled with the very short lines, bring a limber and athletic agility to the poem, and to the content it presents.
Whenever you post a poem here, the posting is an event to be celebrated. In a paradoxical way, each poem that you post is an expansion of your work, but also serves as a further introduction to your complete collection. In my reading experience, I have only encountered two other Poets who present that same paradox: Wallace Stevens and Vergil. This poem proves that you have walked where they walked; not as a visitor, but as a fellow inhabitant of those rarefied and glorious dimensions. The observations you bring back from there to present in your poems make all of our lives better.
Starward
Thank you for, again,
Thank you for, again, exceeding my wildest expectations with such a moving and magnificent vote of confidence.
As I expressed, many of my poems would never have been inspired or even finished without your support. I believe it was your view of a poet’s mission (to explain the cosmos to itself) that motivated me to take at least little time every now and then to try and do just that.
That’s no small calling, of course, and I can say with certainty that you a member of the cosmic club yourself.
My humble and bottomless gratitude for your radiant comment: another cherished gift.
In my late teens and early
In my late teens and early twenties, I developed a fascination with how a Poet's work developed over time, and how each poem altered the poetic landscape, and was then altered itself by the presence of the next poem. During college, I spent far too many pleasant hours reading literary criticism and analysis, instead of the stuff I was assigned to do. But I always felt like I was a day late and a dollar short because the Poets whose work I studied were all deceased. I was unable to see the living process. I had no idea, in those days, that the Lord had a great joy prepared in store for me for the right time---at this final stage of my earthly existence---that I can now see it operating in real time, in living color, and in the common environment of this site, as I observe your work, proceeding poem by poem unto the grandeur of the majestic perspective that it now demonstrates and will ultimately expand to its final, glorious, and enduring form. Your poems have given me that privilege, and have validated all those hours I spent at the college library, so that I now know those hours were not spent in vain.
Starward
I had to smile when I read:
I had to smile when I read: "I spent far too many pleasant hours reading literary criticism and analysis". Only a true connoisseur of the written word would spend so much time doing that just for fun, not because of an assignment.
Well, that explains your talent and your instinctive literary acumen. I'm unspeakably honored to have the support of a true scholar and fine Poet. Endless thanks.