The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 12/2/08

[BlueIris]

"Encounter"

We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
A red wing rose in the darkness.

And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
One of us pointed to it with his hand.

That was long ago.  Today neither of them is alive.
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.

O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.

                                                                   Wilno, 1936

—Czeslaw Milosz
(Translated from the Czech by Czeslaw Milosz and Lillian Vallee)

[Fire Walk With Me]

1. Hnf...Nice.

:hi:

[Chorophyll]

2. Kickety-kick.

I love this. Aahhh.

[BlueIris]

3. Thanks!

This was a great find for me, too.

[BlueIris]

4. Kick.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

5. My dear BlueIris!

This is very poignant, and wonderful...

Sad too...

Thank you!

:hug:

[ThomCat]

6. That is a beautiful tribute poem.

I love the way that brings out the sad and quick mortality of life, and gives the impression that even the author might be the one who died somehow.

It's a cool use of paradox to make a point. Obviously he didn't die or he couldn't have written the poem, but by being vague the way he was, and leaving open that possibility he directly implies that it's possible he died, so perhaps he's a ghost.

A ghost of himself? Because of the loss of his friend? It is nicely circular. All because of the deliberate vagueness.

It's a nice use of language to make a point without coming out and directly making the point.

[BlueIris]

7. :-)

Why doesn't ThomCat have a book of poems out already?

[Indi Guy]

8. The hand is at the tiller...

A firm hand now at the tiller, of the fiery frozen ship of state
We wish this man well -- Our futures in his hands waits...
...to see a redeption from ideological hate
Once again I lay my life down for idealism's sake...