To David Upon the Death of His Grandfather July 13, 1979

[ctalerico]

Your heart is heavy, saddened with sorrow,
None of which I can share or borrow;
I cannot make my heart your home--
I'm sorry you must go this alone.
For how can I take away your pain and hurt?
What words can I offer to give you comfort?
It's feeble of me to attempt to convey
What I know no words can possibly say.
Yet these humble thoughts to you I send,
Hoping they lend you strength, my friend.

An ocean wave has a mighty roar
But reaches the shore, then is heard no more.
A tree can take a thousand years to grow;
Where does a river begin its flow?
A mountain may swell and reach the sky
Yet a flower may die--no one asks why.
A cricket is one of Nature's smallest things
But what a wondrous song it sings.
A pearl begins from but a grain of sand;
A trickle of water erodes a mass of land.

We live in a great cosmic magnitude
Together but always alone in our solitude.
An infant suckles nourishment from mother's breast
Then a brief moment later is laid to final rest.
Alone as we came in, by ourselves we must leave,
Leaving our loved ones behind to grieve.
This complex universe is infinitely vast--
Yet all things must come to pass:
As Nature gives, she also retrieves
The loves from our lives as the leaves from the trees.

We cannot fathom the farthest star
Until we accept those things that are.
For just as flowers blossom anew
So will I and so will you.
As a brook meanders where it must,
Death silently sails after each of us.
Yet death is merely passage to another plane
Where all of us merge together again
Into Humanity's great Spiritual Sea
Where I Become you and you Become me.

Where on this earth we can only awkwardly touch,
After death we all Become all of us.
We are Time and Space, Distance and Motion;
We are the sand, the mountain, the sky and the ocean.
Your close love has gone back to the earth
To give a child, a pearl, a star its birth.
David, you're sad but please take courage--
Only through death can we all emerge
As a wondrous part of the Universal Whole
Some call Spirit, some call Soul.

July 13, 1979

From Other Voices, Other Poems
Copyright © 1980 Carl Talerico
All rights reserved.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I'm afraid that the rhymes - that came to feel so compulsory - got in the way of the sentiment, and the voice was too declamatory, too... public, I guess.

[ctalerico]

I'm afraid that the rhymes - that came to feel so compulsory - got in the way of the sentiment, and the voice was too declamatory, too... public, I guess.

Thanks for the valued criticism. The poem was written nearly 30 years ago by a different poet and hopefully I've matured (if not honed my skills) since then; but, still, the work must stand or fall on its own merits or lack thereof. I shall try to look at it objectively through the prism of your criticism. Sorry the poem didn't provide a more positive experience for you but I do appreciate your considered opinion.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks for the valued criticism. The poem was written nearly 30 years ago by a different poet and hopefully I've matured (if not honed my skills) since then; but, still, the work must stand or fall on its own merits or lack thereof. I shall try to look at it objectively through the prism of your criticism. Sorry the poem didn't provide a more positive experience for you but I do appreciate your considered opinion.

More for what I hope will be your pleasure than for any instruction as to how one might use rhyme, I urge you to Google "April Inventory" by W.D. Snodgrass, ad if you have the least bit of ham in you, find someone to whom you can read it out loud...

[ctalerico]

More for what I hope will be your pleasure than for any instruction as to how one might use rhyme, I urge you to Google "April Inventory" by W.D. Snodgrass, ad if you have the least bit of ham in you, find someone to whom you can read it out loud...

I followed your suggestion and read with pleasure (though not aloud) "April Inventory" several times. Quite enjoyable. I note his rhyme scheme (ababcc) and regular meter provides a pleasing cadence whereas the rhyme scheme I used (ababababab with some internal rhyme) might lend my poem less refinement or a choppiness perhaps to the ear of some? Is that the point you were making? Or do I remain still afield with thoughts along these lines?

[PrinceMyshkin]

I followed your suggestion and read with pleasure (though not aloud) "April Inventory" several times. Quite enjoyable. I note his rhyme scheme (ababcc) and regular meter provides a pleasing cadence whereas the rhyme scheme I used (ababababab with some internal rhyme) might lend my poem less refinement or a choppiness perhaps to the ear of some? Is that the point you were making? Or do I remain still afield with thoughts along these lines?

Principally recognizing your love of rhyme, I wanted to bring to your attention a poem from which I felt sure you'd derive pleasure. In your comment on his rhyme scheme you did not mention that most of the time the cc rhyme at the end of one stanza becomes the "a" rhyme of the next; and one of my delights in the poem is that whereas most of the time the rhymes are graceful and almost unobtrusive, occasionally they are witty or tease by their unexpectedness as in:

In thirty years I may not get
Younger, shrewder, or out of debt.

[qimissung]

"Your close love has gone back to earth to give a child, a pearl, a star, it's birth."
This is my favorite line-it's beautiful, as is your poem.

[ctalerico]

...I wanted to bring to your attention a poem from which I felt sure you'd derive pleasure.

Indeed, you were right. I enjoyed it immensely. Actually, I owe you a debt. I'm not familiar with the works of Snodgrass (other than maybe reading a few of his poems in college) and "April Inventory" proved a good introduction. I intend to read more of his work.



In your comment on his rhyme scheme you did not mention that most of the time the cc rhyme at the end of one stanza becomes the "a" rhyme of the next; and one of my delights in the poem is that whereas most of the time the rhymes are graceful and almost unobtrusive, occasionally they are witty or tease by their unexpectedness as in:

In thirty years I may not get
Younger, shrewder, or out of debt.

Yes, I failed to mention it but I did notice the transition cc lines ending one stanza becoming the aa of the next. In fact, that's really one of the intriguing aspects of the poem and I'm eager to discover if that stylistic approach appears in some of his other poems. As for the wit, it's as refreshing as it is unexpected.

I'm grateful that you suggested that I check him out!

[ctalerico]

"Your close love has gone back to earth to give a child, a pearl, a star, it's birt."
This is my favorite line-it's beautiful, as is your poem.

Thanks. Truly glad that you found it moving.

[blazeofglory]

Y
Yet death is merely pass to another plane
Where all of us merge together again
Into Humanity's great Spiritual Sea
Where I Become you and you Become me.

Where on this earth we can only awkwardly touch,
After death we all Become all of us.
We are Time and Space, Distance and Motion;
We are the sand, the mountain, the sky and the ocean.
Your close love has gone back to the earth
To give a child, a pearl, a star its birth.
David, you're sad but please take courage--
Only through death can we all emerge
As a wondrous part of the Universal Whole
Some call Spirit, some call Soul.

July 13, 1979

From Other Voices, Other Poems
Copyright © 1980 Carl Talerico
All rights reserved.

This is the finest poem, if not of all I have read in life, at least in the last one month. Yet judgment is a disservice as far as the beauty of the poem goes. I find the poem as something that speaks so many things of me that go unspoken, maybe for want of language and craftsmanship demanded of a writer.

In point of fact I too subscribe to the fact that death does not destroy and though it we become an inch closer to another reality. In fact there are layers of reality and I can not subscribe to all.

[ctalerico]

This is the finest poem, if not of all I have read in life, at least in the last one month. Yet judgment is a disservice as far as the beauty of the poem goes. I find the poem as something that speaks so many things of me that go unspoken, maybe for want of language and craftsmanship demanded of a writer.

In point of fact I too subscribe to the fact that death does not destroy and though it we become an inch closer to another reality. In fact there are layers of reality and I can not subscribe to all.

It warms me greatly, Blaze, that you find my poem worthy of such heightened praise. But even more importantly to me is your willingness to share a small part of your personal philosophy of death and regeneration. The occasion for this poem is obvious: I actually wrote it for a dear friend on the day he lost his grandfather with whom he was extremely close--all of David's life he had gone fishing with his grandfather, walked trails with him, whittled glorious wooden menageries with him and learned all of life's most important lessons from him. On the way back from the hospital and his grandfather's deathbed, David called me on a pay phone (no cell phones back then!) and asked if he and his wife might stop by my apartment. Rather than be with his grieving family he wanted to be with me to share the moment. He and his wife and I sat in my living room and while I listened to him play his guitar (Simon and Garfunkel, Cat Stevens and so many other tunes that gave David comfort) I wrote the poem (in 2 or 3 hours) while we listened, drank wine, and memorialized his grandfather in quiet unpretentious celebration of a fine old man's existence.

The love--and sadness of loss and courage of recovery--felt in my apartment that evening was so nakedly profound, and unabashed. The moment pierced the illusory solitude we typically, as a species, defensively cloak ourselves in and we three felt merged in a fleeting spiritual unity of utter bliss. I shall take that experience to my own grave. The poem is but an awkward expression of that embraced enigmatic moment of Being and Becoming!

[kak]

Thanks for the kind words about my husband's poem, "April Inventory." You certainly made his day.
I believe he recorded the poem for Poetry Magazine's website. He can't brag about how well he reads, but I can!