There is something fine in touching this grass

[jon1jt]

Teenage wasteland,
it's only teenage wasteland,
teenage wasteland...
they're all WASTED!

:P

[Granny5]

That soft moist little fold,
formed and formless,
like two slender rocks salt-licked.
I sat in the cavity of a hole
that gave way to a creek,
the night dandelions gave
their half-Buddha bows and
the moon shone through
the tangles of her hair.
I whispered
some of the dharma in her ear
while she slept.

I’m passing through,
against the rain’s wheezing refrain.
The tug of that strange waking
hour of daylight savings,
the morning she trembled
along the water’s edge
to the laughter of lichens;
our eyes closed to a blizzard
of ashen wings
whispering sailor songs.

I wrote her a poem
with my guitar pick
in accordance with
the laws of the sea.
She merely stared,
stepped forward, said:
We once were water,
will be again.

And still, I think, there is something fine in touching this grass,
this night---
in knowing it,
like learning the names of flowers:
delphinium spires, primroses, chrysanthemums,
blue hydrangea; anthurium--painter’s palette, ahh!

To watch the morning horizon disperse
with the scythe’s last sweep of summer.
Her fingers looped the rim of my pants,

an age long ago when I stopped smoking,
to see myself an old man
jingling a pocket of change.

*

The water laps against my boat,
the mast high
like a crucifix determined.
The moonlight in my glass;
a blade of grass between my lips.

How utterly beautiful!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Without meaning to denigrate your other poems, this is the first one that I admire and like!

I especially appreciate the way the more delicate, more restrained lines give way suddenly to:


And still, I think, there is something fine in touching this grass,
this night---
in knowing it,
like learning the names of flowers:
delphinium spires, primroses, chrysanthemums,
blue hydrangea; anthurium--painter’s palette, ahh!

that longer line, followed by the lyricism of the succeeding ones, is like song that has been held in for as long as possible but finally bursts free!

[symphony]

This is beautiful. Especially these:

That soft moist little fold,
formed and formless,
like two slender rocks salt-licked.

I’m passing through,
against the rain’s wheezing refrain.

And still, I think, there is something fine in touching this grass,
this night---
in knowing it,
like learning the names of flowers:

The moonlight in my glass;
a blade of grass between my lips.
Its one of those poems that makes me feel it means more than it says.

[ampoule]

My goodness Jon. I find this quite sensuous if not out and out erotic. Very beautiful. And for some reason, something made me think of Leonard Cohen while I was reading.
Very nice.

[blp]

The return to the title part way down reminds me strongly of Robert Duncan's Often I am permitted to return to a meadow (http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15708). Did you know that one?

I've commented on it before, but anyway, I think this is absolutely the best poem of yours I've read. Quite apart from the absolutely perfect cadences and the dreamy beauty of the language, I like the sense of a narrator who is young, intelligent and so absolutely sure of what he's saying and what he values that he doesn't have to shout about any of it at all.

[TheFifthElement]

You know, we love beauty on Lit-net and this is truly beautiful Jon. I feel like I'm really there, or perhaps sitting on a porch somewhere, in the early evening, quaffing a nice red, and listening as you share a beautiful dream. There's a quietly confident voice, and as blp says, a sense that the narrator has nothing to prove. I'd imagine this is wonderful read out loud.

[blp]

I can't believe I used the word 'absolutely' three times in my post.

[Pendragon]

Sort of abstractly drawing the image while never loosing the focus. I like it!

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/fairyandfriend.gif

[kiz_paws]

And I put my two cents worth in Jon's blog ;)

He knows that I like this one! :thumbs_up

[jon1jt]

Granny: Glad to see you...and thanks for stopping by to read. I'm happy you like it!



Without meaning to denigrate your other poems, this is the first one that I admire and like!

:lol: :lol: Oh the slights we hide with laurel! :lol: Well, you seem to genuinely like this one, and you absolutely nailed exactly how I wished for that stanza to be read. Thanks for reading, Prince.


The return to the title part way down reminds me strongly of Robert Duncan's Often I am permitted to return to a meadow (http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15708). Did you know that one?

I've commented on it before, but anyway, I think this is absolutely the best poem of yours I've read. Quite apart from the absolutely perfect cadences and the dreamy beauty of the language, I like the sense of a narrator who is young, intelligent and so absolutely sure of what he's saying and what he values that he doesn't have to shout about any of it at all.

Oh yes I've come across Duncan's work but never that one. I'm really glad you brought it to my attention because it's got that especially airy, simple quality that I love about a poem. Thanks. And not to be too concerned about your use of 'absolutely.' To tell you the truth I didn't realize it until you brought it up. I've done the same many times. It reminds me how we're our own worst critic, huh?




Its one of those poems that makes me feel it means more than it says.
If my poem's able to do that I'd say I'm on the right track. Thanks, Symph.




You know, we love beauty on Lit-net and this is truly beautiful Jon. I feel like I'm really there, or perhaps sitting on a porch somewhere, in the early evening, quaffing a nice red, and listening as you share a beautiful dream. There's a quietly confident voice, and as blp says, a sense that the narrator has nothing to prove. I'd imagine this is wonderful read out loud.



Ahhh, that evening sounds divine, glad that this poem evokes that image. Thanks, fifth.



Sort of abstractly drawing the image while never loosing the focus. I like it!

Thanks, Pen. When I wrote this poem I was madly focused on not loosing focus, if that makes sense. Good sign.

Kiz: Kiz, yes, I recall you crowned this one your "favorite" ---now I have to figure out how I'm going to write a better poem than this one so that next time you'll come back and say that's your favorite, because in that sense it would be progress, right?! :p Thanks mz. kiz.

[PrinceMyshkin]

:lol: :lol: Oh the slights we hide with laurel! :lol: Well, you seem to genuinely like this one, and you absolutely nailed exactly how I wished for that stanza to be read. Thanks for reading, Prince.

You're right. There was no need for me to diss your other poems when I really wanted to express my unequivocal admiration for this poem.

[NikolaiI]

sweet goodnight, and infinite good morning.

this is so lovely; i personally could have stopped after the first three stanzas. . . the cleft in the rock reminds me of sitting in one of those myself, right under the rain; to stay dry in the rain, right in a dry creek bed. . . and notice my breathing along with the rain. .

and the rest of this speaks of mystical, spiritual, beautiful vision of the infinite- so sweet and beautiful. so lovely to see.

i will save this.

oh and the 3rd stanza is very reminiscent, naturally, of all hendrix's beauty and love - 1983, a merman i should turn to be

[tailor STATELY]

Beautiful poem...Thanks for revisiting this poem NikolaiI.

I will have to learn more about the OP.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[symphony]

Thanks for bumping up some of the old poems posted here, Nikolai. I myself don't read or write much these days, but boy do I miss the old group in LitNet!