April 3, 2011
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So far, so what
At last the past is over.
I was surprised to see the light so soon.
It was as if I was too far ahead of my time
or I was singing a different tune.
But my past has finally caught up with me
and I wished, for a while, it would stay.
But it soon turned blue like old things often do
when some memories won’t go away.It is arrogance even to consider
that nothing can, for no reason, go awry
or that success is ever an accurate gauge
of how difficult it had been to try.
But I have to remember, doing nothing at all
means I’m not allowed to complain.
So I need to decide if I’ve anything to hide
because it’s too convoluted to explain.And here, days later, it is still only now,
slightly different but, mostly, like then.
And it flabbergasts me how I’m just floating along,
the same wash over and over again.
But the river gets wider and debris makes waves
and the whole thing seems to be churning to a head.
And I try not to think of the terrible stink
when the world, as I know it, is dead.
Comments (4)
good wordsby way of response:
http://i-once-was.xanga.com/729513131/item/
Dear Ben,
Although I’ve never forgotten how impactful your words are to me, it really delighted me just now to see your username on my inbox, and to come over and read these verses.
Some supposed “poets” are possibly traumatic over posting a poem a day or whatever they’re supposed to do for “national poetry month.” Whenever I read your poetry, it seems as if, and I’m sure I’ve written this at least a couple of times in the past, what six or so years I’ve “known you”, that you must think in rhyming couplets. (Or ABCB as in this case.) Your verse is so effortless and sublime.
Okay enough of the softsoap.
From the first line, the poem has me hooked. “At last the past is over” Internal rhyme, a sentiment so complex but comes across so simple. The line is mirrored in the third stanza: “And here, days later, it is still only now.” I’m simply amazed as usual when confronted with your poetic voice.
I’ve been “reconnecting” via the “universal inbox” since I got back from my last self imposed hiatus, and I haven’t given your blog any attention. I shall attempt to remedy that tonight.
All told, even in light of the accolades, I do understand that this is quite a dismal poem, and ends badly. So are the sentiments of poets who perceive repetition in all forms and ways as they write. I won’t say anything more.
Just this.
Bravo.
As usual.
Michael F. Nyiri, poet, philosopher, fool
“But I have to remember, doing nothing at all
means I’m not allowed to complain.
So I need to decide if I’ve anything to hide
because it’s too convoluted to explain.”
… wow. I can’t find words to express how much this poem made me think.