"Thou who are not..."

[Bar22do]

Those who see you I distrust:
they only contemplate themselves.
Wise books teach you are not.

And if you’re dead,
it isn’t as a result of having been,
but because some think you exist.

Words tiptoe at the edge of the chasm
of thought. O writer, god
is a challenge your words accept,
but they don’t lead to god.
Perhaps the silence could,
if it is true it was first.

Still I pray, often repeating within:
« Thou who are not
Help us who are »,
maybe to kind of keep in touch
with the fine poet of these lines:
Robert Friend, my late best pal.

[Hawkman]

Hi Bar,

I really like this poem and in truth I'd like to know a bit of its back story. But I do have a bit of trouble getting the sense of S1L3, as it feels as though it's missing a preposistion or maybe an adverb.

I'm also trying to decide if the subject of the poem, who is or might not be, is god or the poet. Please put me out of my misery...

As always, Best Regards - H

[blank|verse]

My brain's stopped working, so I'll have to get back to this Bar!

But what I can make out seems touched with your usual fluency and rhythm.

Hawkman - for that problem line, think of Hamlet's 'To be or not to be', in other words, 'Wise books teach you [do not exist]'.

[Hawkman]

Hi B/V and Bar

That is how I interpreted it but feel that the line would be better if it read:
"Wise books teach that you are not."

Regards, H

[stephanson]

powerful words, i think i know where you were going with this poem however i agree with hawkman. i would like to know the background, although i have a feeling i know.

WOnderful poem

[hack]

Death is a bend in the road,
To die is to slip out of view.
If I listen, I hear your steps
Existing as I exist.

The earth is made of heaven.
Error has no nest.
No one has ever been lost.
All is truth and way.

-Fernando Pessoa-

[lallison]

I enjoyed this poem and read it a couple of times. It is quite serious and full of heavy thoughts, teetering on the edge of a chasm, so to speak.

I felt like this line: maybe to kind of keep in touch
doesn't quite fit as the language suddenly seems so casual. Maybe if you cut out "kind of," which would be implied anyhow.

Enjoyed its seriousness and it is a fine remembrance. Thanks for sharing

[blazeofglory]

Those who see you I distrust:
they only contemplate themselves.
Wise books teach you are not.

And if you’re dead,
it isn’t as a result of having been,
but because some think you exist.

Words tiptoe at the edge of the chasm
of thought. O writer, god
is a challenge your words accept,
but they don’t lead to god.
Perhaps the silence could,
if it is true it was first.

Still I pray, often repeating within:
« Thou who are not
Help us who are »,
maybe to kind of keep in touch
with the fine poet of these lines:
Robert Friend, my late best pal.

This is one of the poems I have come upon of late and I feel it is moving and touching deeply

[Bar22do]

Hey - Volcano’s hunging ashes must have disabled my computer for a while :), so pls receive my belated thanks for reading my poem, as well as for your remarks and comments: Hawkman, Blank/Verse, stephanson, hack, lallison and Blazeofglory!

Hawkman – S1L3 caused me a bit of a problem as well, but I thought one would trip on « teach that » so I did without the conjuction. Now I found an option perhaps – pls see my revision.

Blank/Verse – hope it’s not my poem that stopped your brain, but that you just collapsed on it after a lengthy distribution of your now generally expected cents and understandings!
I’m happy you noticed the rhythm around which my poem actually built.

stephanson – nice to know you sort of recognized the "wavelengths" and felt what my words were only able to allude to...

hack – within the realm of being, death, error or sadness have no roots, they are ways, sometimes snaking, but ways… you couldn't have quoted more à propos… and you know my weakness for Pessoa's poetry!

lallison – that’s about what one can do in these uncertain zones: titter on the edge of an abyss…
You’re right to have brought to my attention that «kind of» doesn’t fit, I removed it in my revision. Thanks a lot.

Blazeofglory – your reading and insights are always valued and I’m glad my poem moved you.

Some background and subject: R. Friend was a neighbour and a dear friend of mine. We would indulge endless talks about such light :) matters as perfection/unity, atheism/faith… We argued whether the last were mere human need for reassurance while facing our finitude (and resulting manlike image of "god"), or an intuition (memory?) that beyond the organising intelligence of life in the being, an unthinkable non being beyond the power of description escaped us totally, except perhaps for a notion of it in a whiff of absence or nostalgia, for a trace found in a face of the « other » (as Emmanuel Levinas would put it), for a sense of responsibility, surrender… well. Predictably, we would invariably end up on a pile of questions…
So my poem hints at the graspable non being of a deceased friend (thus also bowing to his art and remembered kindness) and at the absolutely ungraspable (some sort of a total pre-original alterity), and how we can only prawl the edges of Thought begging for sth from its unfathomable depths it can’t give…

warmest regards to you all - Bar + my revision below:


"Thou who are not..."

Those who see you I distrust:
they only contemplate themselves.
Wise books tell that you are not.

And if you’re dead,
it isn’t as a result of having been,
but because some think you exist.

Words tiptoe at the edge of the chasm
of thought. O writer, god
is a challenge your words accept,
but they don’t lead to god.
Perhaps the silence could,
if it is true it was first.

Still I pray, often reciting within:
« Thou who are not
Help us who are »,
possibly to keep in touch
with the fine poet of these lines:
Robert Friend, my late pal.

[lallison]

Beautiful!

[Hawkman]

Excellent revision, Bar. Thanks also for being kind enough to fill us in on the poem's inspriation. It was always good but now it's brilliant. Thanks for sharing.

Best,

H

[Bar22do]

Excellent revision, Bar. Thanks also for being kind enough to fill us in on the poem's inspriation. It was always good but now it's brilliant. Thanks for sharing.

Best,

H

If it is, it's thanks to the feedbacks/contribution of all - thanks so very much - lallison too!

[hack]

Bar, It is inspired. Tell me, is this the American poet and translator Robert Friend
who wrote the translation of Rachael's "The Flowers of Perhaps"?

[Bar22do]

Bar, It is inspired. Tell me, is this the American poet and translator Robert Friend who wrote the translation of Rachael's "The Flowers of Perhaps"?

... because you want to tell me you know Rahel too?????!!!!! Gosh, you might then even know Piotr Bednarski or Yehuda Hanegbi or --- ! (and all that from Las Vegas' windows...)
But yes, this is the same poet and translator Robert Friend, we were very good friends. He was cats lover, too! - he fed 28 of them! - they all lived in his house and cat hair was flying around in clouds - and he was their humble unconditional servant! He was distinguished, witty, a great scholar, very kind and sensitive...

Thanks for your appreciation of my poem!!
How are irises doing?...

- Bar

[hack]

I know that you must not really exist. Friend, Szymborska, Schulz, Pessoa, Saramago, even the Amarna Letters; I read what is at hand and what might (or might not) amuse. You live in my head, my friend, perhaps you are my madness...peace...

Also, there is no shortage of windows in Las Vegas.

[Bar22do]

You live in my head, my friend, perhaps you are my madness...


ah, how can I ever repay your kindness! :)