Metropolitan Homesick Blues

Southampton Stories & Other Stuff

POETRY PAGE TWO

with 6 comments

NORMA’S PHOTOGRAPH

You are the poem I can never write.

My words are held captive in your eyes.

Look at me

And set them free.

THE NEPTUNE 

In Old Montreal

The Nepture Tavern stands

Rock-walled and wood-beamed.

Steel hooks in their belts,

Quebecois on their faces

Stevadores lean on old oak tables

And down their drafts.

A steel skeleton of a ship hangs over the door

In the window a handwritten sign proclaims:

‘highest prices paid for English money’

Woodcut of what the Neptune once was

Lists to one side on the wall.

What the Neptune is now, though, still takes you back

 NUMB

Perhaps the day is yet to come

When, after all, you stand completely numb

Numb from fear

Numb from shock

Numb from sheer amazement

Because you’ve discovered life

And your struggle

Is someone else’s entertainment.

TIME

I am made of time

And time makes moments of me

And parcels them into hours

And into days that pass into night.

And night moves me into another day

Time makes me grow old as it carries me forward

Time steals memories from me

And makes less of me with its theft.

I am made of time

And time makes of me what it wishes.

Written by metropolitanhomesickblues

August 15, 2011 at 5:27 PM

6 Responses

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  1. Just came back, as I saw your Poetry Page Two earlier, but had to leave. Would like to get into a conversation with these poems; perhaps at another time. Had particular difficulty with the imagery of the Tavern poem; the imagery suggested to me at first gance both that of a bar, a tavern, and a person, or probably, (more likely) the memory of a bar as seen by a particular person. The other poems, I note, are more of the mind, and emotions, and not empirical. Like. P.S. I have read a bit of Frost on a poetry site. It proves again to me that now all of the poems, of even the finest poets, are of equal quality. There’s hope.

    poeticinteraction

    September 17, 2011 at 6:54 PM

    • I took my time getting back, because I wanted to clear my head for analysis. But on reading, I find that I feel that my original remarks still express the interpretation I have now. Here is the image of one of the fellow in the pub reflected in the following lines, in the ‘belt’ and the ‘faces’. The boys are really a part of their environment.
      Rock-walled and wood-beamed.

      Steel hooks in their belts,

      Quebecois on their faces

      And in the following lines, the Naptune (image of the sea- connotation in the god of the sea?) the reflection of the present is caught within a memory of the past.
      Woodcut of what the Neptune once was

      Lists to one side on the wall.

      What the Neptune is now, though, still takes you back

      Please understand that I enjoy your poetry even more than your prose, but assure you I see each as a separate unity with its own merit. You’re an excellent writer in both areas I feel. Would love to have you for my ‘creative director’! But I believe you have again captured the ‘sense/essence’ of ‘personality’ within these lines. The authenticity of a person and a persons environment is made clear here, as these moments and ‘singularities’, are constantly reflected one in the other. The Tavern and the men are as one; just as I am beginning to intuit, is the Self with all People who make up the environment of Nature, the World, God!!!! The best. Loreen.

      poeticinteraction

      September 18, 2011 at 10:27 AM

      • There’s also the reflection of the present within the past, the past within the present, which I agree with as I am not of New Age, for in agreement with those that allow that the Fulfillment of the Eternal is best expressed as the containment of the dynamics of a complete temporarlity with a ‘Now’. This I believe your poem expresses with respect to ‘memory’. Thank you.

        poeticinteraction

        September 18, 2011 at 10:31 AM

      • Back again. I did misread. Didn’t note the period after the description of the beams. (Or didn’t see it in my old age….!) But the present condition of the Neptune still takes ‘you’ back. The best. Loreen (note the n is not in brackets. L.

        poeticinteraction

        September 18, 2011 at 1:59 PM

  2. Firstly, it’s true. It’s just not my ‘old age’, but sometimes your blog address does disappear from my video screen. The one I mentioned earlier turned up on a later ‘reread’.
    But regarding the poem about time.
    I hope to find, through the reading of many authors, patterns which express or develop perspectives that prove to be trustworthy in my life. Henri Bergson, for instance (the man responsible for the elan vital) stated that there was a ‘duration’ in time. I recently read on a Kabbalist blog that to be beyond space and time, (the eternal – one perspective on it) meant to be in a state of internal retrospection, in which the mapping of the external was secondary, to the moment by moment passage of one’s thoughts and emotions, especially when one is working to become more and more conscious of these working of the internal ‘self’. This of course is at the root of the psychology, (as distinct from ‘spirituality’) of the reasons for Buddhist meditation. The New Agers of course have picked up on this, but I feel do not have the realist philosophy of the Buddhists, who feel that it is important to go through that time continuum and thus into ‘past lives’ -(in this one) in order to eliminate the ‘seed’ of karma. A bit like Christian repentance, or ‘overcoming’. However it is put, the feeling of control BY time, translates in this chosen set of parameters to a situation where consciousness might be being ‘controlled’ by externals. This is not the only possibility. I have had in my life to overcome being controlled by the externals which lay as in the Hofstadtler book, as simmballs (symbols) of neurons in my mind, representative of the memories, (seeds) from past times. Hope I have been helpful here. As far as an aesthetic critique of the writing ability, I feel there is no need. Sincerely, LOREEN.

    poeticinteraction

    September 19, 2011 at 8:01 AM

  3. Just a little ‘Numb’. Good poem. Loreen.

    poeticinteraction

    September 21, 2011 at 5:58 PM


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