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Poetry Magnum Opus

Unaware


fdelano
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Rain on snow takes away the glitter

as I watch its runoff in the midnight

glare of the streetlamp. In the middles,

in the silence so appropriate, I am

compelled to watch the emptiness

outside.

 

Aging's effect on the mind causes

memories to flow to a drain ever

empty and seeming to want more

of the most meaningful events

of a life that outrace its abilities

inside.

 

Perhaps by tomorrow I will have

forgotten standing alone beside

the black night window, a spot

chosen as my haven against those

memories that never join the rush

downhill.

 

A sudden shiver works its way into

my chest, with fingers that spread

wide, dissolving the snow blanket

with sopping cold drops that I know

will soon drive me back to an unwelcomed

sleep of then.

Edited by fdelano
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I read this one at least four times, and I plan to read it more. A very effective metaphor, "rain on snow," is carried through from start to finish in this bleak account, Franklin. The first verse draws me in, and, as the speaker is "compelled to watch the emptiness outside," I am compelled to keep reading and watch it with him.

 

By the second verse it becomes evident that there's something specific weighing heavily on the speaker. "Aging's effect on the mind" (and body!) is someplace I don't really want to go, to look, to even think about, yet I do. Just the other night I was pondering the cold: though I feel generally strong, I feel weakened, as never before, when exposed to it. I won't write the word I used to describe myself -- it's a bit stronger than "pansy" -- here in this reply, but you can fill in the blank.

 

It's peculiar yet, at the same time, expected that the speaker is somehow comfortable in this "place" of his, this haven against those/memories that never join the rush/downhill. I think I know it. I can feel it. And though I'm unable to place the rhythm of the poem, it seems to be mated well with the subject matter and is pleasingly consistent throughout. I love this one.

 

Tony

 

 

PS -- I deleted the remnants of a personal conversation that might be able to be resumed backchannel if the parties are willing.

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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I read this one at least four times, and I plan to read it more. A very effective metaphor, "rain on snow," is carried through from start to finish in this bleak account, Franklin. The first verse draws me in, and, as the speaker is "compelled to watch the emptiness outside," I am compelled to keep reading and watch it with him.

 

By the second verse it becomes evident that there's something specific weighing heavily on the speaker. "Aging's effect on the mind" (and body!) is someplace I don't really want to go, to look, to even think about, yet I do. Just the other night I was pondering the cold: though I feel generally strong, I feel weakened, as never before, when exposed to it. I won't write the word I used to describe myself -- it's a bit stronger than "pansy" -- here in this reply, but you can fill in the blank.

 

It's peculiar yet, at the same time, expected that the speaker is somehow comfortable in this "place" of his, this haven against those/memories that never join the rush/downhill. I think I know it. I can feel it. And though I'm unable to place the rhythm of the poem, it seems to be mated well with the subject matter and is pleasingly consistent throughout. I love this one.

 

Tony

 

 

PS -- I deleted the remnants of a personal conversation that might be able to be resumed backchannel if the parties are willing.

 

Tony, my thanks for your understanding this effort--and for your help in other matters. My main attempt here was to put the reader into an actual event, one that occurs too often. I never gave a thought to getting old--didn't plan on it. Self-delusion as self-protection, maybe. Here am I at four AM, looking through the window of my computer, seeing the same rain on snow. Local forecast calls for more of the same.

Franklin

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