Searching For A Vanished Poet Poem by Daniel Brick
Searching For A Vanished Poet
A sheet of paper carried on a summer breeze
tumbled passed me. Where it settled,
on a park lawn lined with elm trees,
revealed a dump site of sheets, all
abandoned poems. No breeze refreshed me,
sitting alone on the hot grass, reading
poem after poem, looking for you,
your signature, your voice, your presence.
There were poems in French and German,
Spanish and Arabic, English and Mandarin
Chinese, Attic Greek and medieval Latin,
and in several unrecognized languages -
those poems preserved their secrets.
The rest made up our Company of Poets,
spread across every niche of planetary life,
our contemporaries, our peers, our friends.
I saw only early poems by you, and searched
the pile again for your new poems in vain.
As I slumped to the ground like the others
before me, twenty more came and and tossed
their poems without a word spoken. More came,
more piles appeared. I cried out in a strangled
voice, 'My friends, what is the good of what
you are doing? We should be rescuing, not burying.'
Some glared at me, others threw their poems
away with contempt. But worst by far to witness
was the low, mean laughter of a few. It was
laughter of those without hope, a sullen crowd
attracting more followers. A girl with green eyes,
maybe eighteen, maybe younger, suddenly stared
into my blue eyes. Our sights locked, and I saw
in her face a fierce hope shining with integrity.
A great exploration. Probably you have left us but you left behind precious things to be treasured and appreciated forever. The poetry of this great poet has made him immortal.
A few things are first to mind reading this, Daniel. From the title, my poems Village Poetry Reading and Shooting Star about the poet mentioned in the Village reading one. Then a poem of mine from my early days I wished I had saved. And what is the best we can hope for as we practice this craft? Glen
What can be nobler, than the resurrection and salvation of poetry. Epic write!
Some glared at me, others threw their poems away with contempt. But worst by far to witness was the low, mean laughter of a few. It was laughter of those without hope, a sullen crowd attracting more followers. A girl with green eyes, maybe eighteen, maybe younger, suddenly stared into my blue eyes. Our sights locked, and I saw in her face a fierce hope shining with integrity. - - - - - - I love the way you connect poetry to hope and integrity. Abandoned poems are our abandoned hopes- - -our lost faith in the powers of poetry.Green eyes of the girl are the new hopes into the unlimited energy of poetry- -blue eyes of sky.A wonderful poem, thanks for sharing.
Wonderful imagery! The graveyard of poems, once I was in the poetic dumps and I deleted over 100 poems, I learned a lesson, we should be rescuing not burying, you penned this lesson so very skillfully with poetic excellence! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 12:42:55 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Beautiful poem Daniel Thank you for sharing Mario Odekerken