Exile
The warm hermetic world that spoke to you
in childhood’s gone. You can’t expect to land
on Go at every turn, to climb the stoop
and find your parents waiting, to return
like salmon to the river you once knew.
You've come now to the delta. In the day’s
vicissitudes, there is no hidden path
to bright conviction. You might just as well
proceed with the day’s tasks; for this is exile,
and not a star will light your sleepy way
to where the heart lives. Learn to live with it.
Edited:
Your revels now have ended. In the day’s
Exile
Greetings, John,
This is a sad poem, and rather stern in some ways. We like the imagery of the salmon and the word 'vicissitudes', for some reason. Is this from a particular MS? We're interested in how it might fit into a sequence of poems, if that's intended (*v*)
Cheerie,
F & (^v^)
This is a sad poem, and rather stern in some ways. We like the imagery of the salmon and the word 'vicissitudes', for some reason. Is this from a particular MS? We're interested in how it might fit into a sequence of poems, if that's intended (*v*)
Cheerie,
F & (^v^)
Greetings, Fliss and Coo,
Yes, it is a sad poem, isn't it? I am haunted b ythat salmon image, it comes back once ro twice in my work. SO, this continues to be from Broccoli and Duty - I am posting from that MS. in sequence, and at about page twenty now. I do have a lot of MSS., and this is one I quite like.
CHeerie,
John
Yes, it is a sad poem, isn't it? I am haunted b ythat salmon image, it comes back once ro twice in my work. SO, this continues to be from Broccoli and Duty - I am posting from that MS. in sequence, and at about page twenty now. I do have a lot of MSS., and this is one I quite like.
CHeerie,
John
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ray miller
- Perspicacious Poster
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Lovely first stanza. Enjoyed the salmon thing very much. For symmetry's sake, maybe
Your revels now have ended. In the day’s
vicissitudes, there is no hidden path
to bright conviction. You might just as well
proceed with the day’s tasks; for not a star
will light your sleepy way: this is exile.
Your revels now have ended. In the day’s
vicissitudes, there is no hidden path
to bright conviction. You might just as well
proceed with the day’s tasks; for not a star
will light your sleepy way: this is exile.
I'm out of faith and in my cups
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
I contemplate such bitter stuff.
