flag
might
passive
The words Thom has handed to us weave a vision that leads me back to my personal fantasy, forged in the life I lived at the end of the century as I engaged the deepest heart work I will probably do in this life. This work carried me past the transition from my middle years to the beginnings of my old age. This work freed me to express myself as I now do, in words and in music too. However, I must do all this with what is left to me and much of what I was in the last century is no longer with me in this one. Here I confess undying love and gratitude to Maire of the Shining Moon, the lady who carried my heart during this transition.
What happened in the next decade is a different chapter filled with returns and new beginnings, new refreshments and new kinds of love. I am grateful for this as well. That too has now passed as I am compelled along my way.
The Passing Of The Age
The Mage's Lament
Oh sweet love, darling queen of my ages,
the shield of my being, I shall raise
your standard, the vermilion flag
tied to the pole I hold close to my side,
though my pain seeps past the cloth
once tied around me by your hand.
I might stand on the rampart at evening
or else deeper within your keep and yet
have I been torn from the old ways,
torn open by our forced passage
from this darker time to the coming newer light. You have firmly said I must be passive,
must stay my hand, must stay behind.
Your enemies and mine have prevailed.
I confess I flag. I would hold with all
the might left to my hand
in the setting of the wild light,
all I can muster under this gray sun.
Yes, I am passive now, slow and swollen
from within, from the burdens that beset me,
the steady crazing of my shocked bones,
but still shall I lift your color
as I salute our song deep within,
salute the memory that echoes,
salute the way we once were,
the way it all once was.
December 7, 2011 6:46 AM
Written for Three Word Wednesday CCXLIX *click here*
A sweet piece. It's not your usual style, but definitely in your voice, which is good. I like especially how you doubled up the meanings of the words... the poem is in three dimensions.
ReplyDeleteAnd a very strong voice at that - it felt like an epic write to me..Jae
ReplyDeleteJoseph! Once long ago you expressed a small impatience writing to me that I should write with other frames as well as the one I usually use. While I can change my form, I am not sure I can actually change my timbre. Writing this piece I quickly had other things on my mind and I let the form take care of itself.
ReplyDeleteJaerose, thank you for saying so.
Christopher,
ReplyDeleteI am breathless ... overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of this. Your words echo my experience though I could never have expressed it so beautifully.
Thank you.
"Ou sont les neiges d'antan," right?
ReplyDeleteVery expressive poetry. Great work.
ReplyDeleteWhat Helen said caused this: *blush*
ReplyDeleteBerowne, you went and made me check stuff out. Francoise Villon... *Oh where are the snows of yesteryear* as the last line of the four stanzas of the "Ballade des dames du temps jadis", which only goes to show that poetry takes on certain topics. However, Villon seems to be glorifying women in their public life more than I. I am no student of classic French poetry. In the ballad the line is "mais ou sont les neiges d'antan"
Angel, thank you for saying so.
This is such a passionate piece. Being a romantic I tended to see the words reminiscing of past love, lost but certainly not forgotten.
ReplyDeleteGreat emotion in this. beautiful.
ReplyDeleteOldegg and Anthony, thanks for saying so.
ReplyDeleteI don't know that impatience is the word, but I enjoyed seeing those different frames. But please don't change your timbre! It wouldn't be the same. :)
ReplyDeleteCreative use of the words...I love how you used flag.
ReplyDelete