Daniel Brick

Gold Star - 75,074 Points (June 10,1947 / St. Paul MN)

The Poet's Truth - Poem by Daniel Brick

The poems are absent, they
have been absent for a week, a full week...
Oh, yes, some have arrived tardy, an hour tardy,
two hours tardy, a half-day... It does not
matter, the ones who do show up are not the ones
we want, the ones we need
to strengthen our fiber, to make
our senses keen, and - to make
the whole thing work. We've all known
for weeks that it's not working:
the poems we recite don't restore us,
the poems don't reside inside us,
we're empty... We've been afraid
to say this out loud, because what
remains silent, buried in heart-depth,
in mind-caverns, in voice-fissures,
what lies buried may be just one person's
fancy, one person's terror... But I'm
saying it out loud, and all of you know
what this means. S-A-Y I-T Someone else!
The loss must be carried by all of us.
S-A-Y I-T Say it! Someone else!

We all know he's given to
hyperbole. The way he praised
even the weakest poems. He could never
tell anyone the truth: yes, yes, poetry
means so much to him, he wants everybody
to enjoy it, to profit from it,
to do it - That's all very true, very noble,
very stupid. THIS is where it's gotten us!
But, my friends, the crisis is not terminal,
unless we allow it to be - terminal.
There are shreds of poetry all around us,
discards, rough drafts, debris. We pick up
the detritus, no longer despised. Pieces
lying on the floor of workshops, pieces
littering the Great Halls, love poems left
on garden benches, sacred poems in church pews,
everywhere you will find it. We will assemble
fragments, work in teams to polish them.
and his kind. Bundle up the fragments,
form committees of recovery, replace
what has abandoned us with what remains
in us!

Those who knew him, knew him
as a difficult man to love,
but love him they did.
Those who read him year after year
struggled reading each new poem,
but they never stopped. What did
they know the rest of us forgot:
that he alone among us knew
necessity of Sacrifice. He had
to eat, he had to sleep, needed
comforting, cried out in pain -
in such things he was one of us,
perhaps even just like us. But
his soul extended so far beyond ours,
it touched boundaries unknown, crossed
thresholds invisible. But he stayed
in our midst for so long, and what an agony
he suffered... for our benefit, our
health of being. In the slow end, he simply
collapsed into pieces. How did he remain
whole for as long as he did? Oh, pray for him,
pray for us....

In Memoriam Aleksandr Blok

Topic(s) of this poem: heroism, poetry, sacrifice

Comments about The Poet's Truth by Daniel Brick

  • Amitava Sur (11/25/2015 10:24:00 AM)

    Just went through this lovely penning. Though I am not abreast with Mr. Blok, but knowing this I pay my respect for his love for poetry and I fully agree with the ideas you mentioned here for up keeping the poetry's quality onward. Thanks for sharing the same. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Savita Tyagi (11/17/2015 10:50:00 AM)

    Enjoyed this excellent piece of poetry with its dramatic language. The endurance and perseverance is what makes a hero stand out among us. He remains whole when we are shattered and fragmented. In some ways this is the journey that each and every person knows and walks upon. In creative field it becomes even more of a challenge. Thanks for sharing. (Report) Reply

  • Kelly Kurt (11/11/2015 1:17:00 PM)

    An interesting tribute. I recognize the qualities you ascribe to him and understand how such a man can be both despised and revered. (Report) Reply

  • Liza Sudina (11/11/2015 1:38:00 AM)

    it is so dynamic poem, really as a flash,
    1) this part is probably about the last year of his life when he said he forgot how to write poems.
    2) as an answer to the first part - it show probably your own (or Blok's) vision of poetry's genesis inside the poet; s soul. it is close to Akhmatova words - she also connected poetry's roots to common things. (it is totally alien to me f.e., because I never connect poetry with just matter things. For me it is also retrospection - or an answer to some emotional question, but never based on things)
    3) in this part you show that he was broken by new powers, hunger, ets broken physically, but not in spirit!
    Blok was sofisticated and like enigma to many, but attractive as a magnite. Since our saint Nectariy Optinsky said Blok is in Paradise - we have a true right to pray for him and wait his own much stronger pray in return from up there!
    Thank you, Daniel!
    (Report) Reply

  • Kumarmani Mahakul (11/11/2015 12:44:00 AM)

    Remaining absent for poems is so sad but wisely expressed deep emotion here is very interesting definitely. Soul is extended so far wisely. Nice and wise poem shared...10 (Report) Reply

  • (11/10/2015 11:34:00 PM)

    I don't know who Alexander Blok was but, this very valiant and dramatic poem speaks of his total immersion in the poetic world in a most desperate yet admirable way!
    Like a volcano whose lava overflows, the poem does the same strongly crushing everything in its path, absorbing the reader completely.
    Exceptional work!
    (Report) Reply

Read all 6 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 10, 2015

[Report Error]