Remembering Marie-Claire

[Brahma]

Remembering Marie-Claire

When I was ten, and the world was new,
and wonders included things that flew,
I met a girl with golden hair,
and she told me her name was Marie-Claire.

We lived that year in a trailer park:
the company rough, the landscape stark.
We played in a wreck at the side of the road,
and plighted our troth, and a kiss bestowed.

On a day when the air was hushed and dry,
a falcon soared in an azure sky;
We watched enthralled and, marvelling, knew
the miracle, then, of things that flew.

But the falcon paused in its gyre above,
and dropped like a stone on a brooding dove.
And time stood still as the girl ran out,
to the blare of the truck and a frenzied shout …

I’ve lived my life in the trailer park:
the company rough, the landscape stark.
And if sometimes it seems that fate’s unfair,
I remember a girl named Marie-Claire.

[Delta40]

What a tragedy! I especially like the falcon and the dove as a way of clearing the clouded mist of love.

[Brahma]

Hello, Delta40.

Thank you for your response.

When nasty things happen to nice people?

Regards,

Brahma.

[MorpheusSandman]

I really love it, Brahma. Like the others I've read from you it's so beautifully lyrical. You have an impeccable knack for these classical, song-like forms. I'd say this is an essentially perfect piece that's elevated even higher by the tasteful and bittersweet repetitions at the end. Very, very nice.

[Brahma]

Hello, Morpheus.

Thank you, once again, for your encouragement.

One of the great regrets of my life is that I didn't come twenty or more years earlier to poetry.

Even if the work appears to be going well, I still feel like one of Omar Khayyam's "little children stumbling in the dark."

And as someone else once said: "The Lyf so Short; the Craft so Long to Lerne."

Regards,

Brahma.

[MorpheusSandman]

Ars longa, vita brevis (art is long, life is short) is an aphorism by Hippocrates. I quote it often. If you don't mind me asking, how old are you? I came to poetry at 23 (I'm 25 now) and I feel I even got started too late! But, to counter with another aphorism, better late than never!

[Brahma]

Hello, Morpheus.

I was born in March, 1930, and have lived a mostly non-literary life.

These days, however, I'm shall we say Proustian in my attempts to make up for so much lost time.

Regards,

Brahma.

[hillwalker]

I found this poem of your extremely poignant - I'm allergic to rhyme unless it's used in such a way that one barely notices it. In this case it added a child-like innocence to the entire piece. Marvellous effort.

H

[Brahma]

Hello, hillwalker.

Thank you for your response.

I hadn't thought of innocence as a characteristic of this piece, but on reflection I can understand your sentiments.

Very interesting.

Thank you again.

Regards,

Brahma.

[MorpheusSandman]

That's remarkable, Brahma! My father is close to 70 now, and I'm frequently saddened about how much he seems to have lost his passions in life. The ones he has seem more like memorial remnants of the past, so it's refreshing to find someone in their golden years that's discovering a love for something new! I'm also amazed at your proficiency of form. You write like someone who's written for years and has an effortless command of form and rhythm.

[Brahma]

Hello, Morpheus.

I too am saddened by the diminution in interest, and capacity for enjoyment of life, which is apparent in many of my contemporaries.

I keep in mind what someone (Henry Ford?) said about "using it or losing it"!

I picked up on your quotation from The Sandman: Season of Mists and that set me off in yet another direction. I'm about to order vol.4 of the series. I know absolutely nothing about the 'comic' form, so this will be a real adventure. Thank you for that.

Regards,

Brahma

[MorpheusSandman]

I've often wondered if the people who lose a passion for life are those who based most of their passions on things that were ephemeral in the first place. My love for the arts hasn't waned even the slightest bit since I was young, and I wonder if that's evidence of something that will last until I pass on.

As for Sandman, it's a remarkable, brilliant, masterpiece of a series, and truly indicative of what the comic medium is capable of as a hybrid medium of art and literature. It's largely what rekindled my passion for literature and introduced me to poetry as, after reading it, I began looking up and reading many of the works that it referenced, including Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Milton. Season of Mists is a fine place to start as it's probably the single most popular volume along with 7: Brief Lives. Vol. 5, A Game of You, is my personal favorite, but one of the strengths of the series is its breadth, depth, and diversity. Nearly all of the volumes offer something unique and worthwhile. I read it chronologically, but I don't think it's necessary, as really only Vol. 9, 10, and, to a lesser extent, 7 depend on knowledge of what happened in previous volumes.

If you end up loving Vol. 4, I'd highly recommend those Absolute Editions, which are big, and gloriously gorgeous. They're expensive, but worth it for the quality, presentation, and enhanced experience.

[deryk]

This took me to the emotions of helplessness one could find in Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience. It's a tough lesson to master.

[Brahma]

Hello, Morpheus.

Thank you for the further information - which now has really captured my interest. If vol. 4 lives up to my expectations, (as I have no doubt it will!) I may well go back to the beginning and read in sequence.

Thank you again.


Hello, deryk.

Thank you for your response.

Helplessness? Yes, I have an inkling of what you mean. And from there, by inference, to considerations of destiny.

Each of us will have his appointment in Samarra. Yes?

Regards,

Brahma.