There in the morn is silver dew
The dew remaining from fair maiden’s spleen
Are pearls of forgotten loves, lost, I knew.
'Though their tears remain, the maidens have long gone away
And to their health these tears I drink everyday.
Among the fruits of their sadness briar rabbits play
Thus unknowing we live our lives merry and gay
And forget the wars that trample the ground
With all of it's lost riches that we have found.
Let us live our lives as we would,
And remember the lost ones as we should;
Let us live our lives as if we could...
1997
Peony in RI from recent trip.
The image of the title reinforces so well this heart felt poem about loss.
ReplyDeleteO-si-yo Paul.
ReplyDeleteIs that what this is about! I was wondering... ; j
Thanks for the kind words.
It almost surprised me to think that it has already been 13 years since I wrote this...
Pearls of forgotten loves. Does one ever forget love? I sure don't, can't, won't. Too precious...small love, big love. Treasure :)
ReplyDeleteOooo, I kinda sound Pollyanna-ish!
Kia ora, Annie!
ReplyDeleteI'm sure that the world has quite happily forgotten some of my youthful earth shattering loves, the same way History passes modest and anonymous young lovers by, oblivious to the sun-like intensity of the emotions that consumes their hearts.
On a personal level I entirely agree with you. Like wise, I treasure all the love I have ever been given; rare and polished memories that reflect some of the ambient light into the darker corners of my being. ;j
You need to be careful with the Polyanna kick, pretty soon you'll wind up thinking happy thoughts- next thing you'll know you'll be sniffing pixie dust and having tea parties on the moon with me. ; j
"And forget the wars that trample the ground"
ReplyDeleteI think about that from time to time. We walk through many places unaware of the pain that took place in that spot. In Ireland, someone spoke of being moved to tears when visiting Normandy. I suspect to many people who live there, to them it's a beach.
By the way, I liked the briar rabbits line:
"Among the fruits of their sadness briar rabbits play"
You are full of so many styles and moods.
ReplyDeleteI love the idea of drinking tears every day to the memory of maidens who have lost love.
Namaskar, Theresa.
ReplyDeleteMy mother is from Cotentin, the normandy peninsula. The coast there is still peppered with concrete bunkers, and there is still vague general feeling of distrust towards the ENGLISH that probably predates the 100 year war. : j So you can imagine how they feel towards the Germans.
I suspect you're right, to a good number of people who live on it, a beach is a beach, but local cultural mind-frames take longer to change, and are to some extent adopted from one's parents.
In France, the first two languages most schools offer are English or German, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if, statistically, less kids choose German to start with as in other parts of the country (I don't have stats for that, I'm just guessing).
Some people have more knowledge (or inside knowledge)about History (or a historical event) and the empathy to be moved by it. Perhaps your acquaintance is one of those.
Ha about that line... When I originally wrote it, I had originally chosen the word "bunny" rabbit. Trying to emphasize the child like innocence of the moment, but in retrospect, I thought it didn't quite cut it, so I did. ; j
---
Oté Kass.
Styles? I suppose so, I like to play with styles.
In society styles are continuously changing over time, and at any one given time there are hundreds of them coexisting.
I've never fully adhered to any of them, instead I just do what I please. I suppose that's the advantage of being an outsider. : j
As for moods, well, aren't we all? That's part of what makes our species interesting; and why stories are so much fun.
It just struck me... The creative (ie invented) explanation for this poem would be to say that I wrote it as an advertisement for mountain dew! ; j Of course that's not the case.
Glad you enjoyed it, thanks.
Beautiful. Such a poetic description of the magic of mornings.
ReplyDeleteI hope you had a great one and that your day is lovely too,
xoxo
For a non-poetry person, I loved this, and that's quite something! I loved the pun on morning/mourning and I couldn't help feeling sadness and hope in this. LOVED the last three lines, but I think my favourite was "Among the fruits of their sadness briar rabbits play".
ReplyDeleteSo you've been writing for a while then?
ReplyDelete'The dew remaining from fair maiden's spleen' is a pretty arresting image. Spleen-dew: brilliant: 'don't roll in the grass, it's covered in spleen-dew!'
Ave Zuzana. You always so unflaggingly positive. : j Glad you enjoyed the piece. Have lovely night, day, and week. ; j
ReplyDelete---
Helele, Sangu. Maybe you're a closet poetry person. ; 7 Glad you enjoyed the piece. Sadness and hope, yep that's what it's about. You ever play the poetry game where you strip imagery away from a poem til you only have what is meant without poetic trappings? Or the game where you go one step further and boil the meaning down to a sentence or two? That can be quite fun. I suspect you'd be pretty good at it.
---
Howdy Karen, and welcome to Questing for food. It is what it is, you're welcome to take it however you like. Thanks for coming to visit, hope you get your balance back. : j
---
Madainn mhath, Eryl. Oh aye, I've been writing since I was four or five. If you mean creatively, I took that up when I reassessed where I was going with my life in my late teens.
LoL, yes here I am waxing all 18th century romantic and here you are with modern medical science. Not that the theory of humors was invented in the 18th, far from it.
"Let us live our lives as if we could..." Beautiful. I think that's exactly the point, too... to live the possibilities until they weave themselves seamlessly into our lives. :)
ReplyDeleteHey there Tracy! I love how the same words can mean so radically different things to different people.
ReplyDeleteYour interpretation is very positive. : j