spring
September 29, 2017 at 9:42 pm Leave a comment
spring
in this early
drought-promising Spring,
seeing echoes
of your face and others, and
other failed dreams, i
know there shall be other
hellos and other foreknown
goodbyes;
that, quite certainly,
in some sudden tomorrow, pride
and need and pain
will combine somehow with loneliness
to make another illusion
of love and untimely kisses
not so much begun as
recognized…i know
o dream truly dies, and there’s
the rub of’t. i dream
without belief.
in this too-early, dry
Spring, reviewing
past loves and past mistakes, i have
no great hopes for Summer.
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*of’t=of it=abandoned contraction, also a pun on ‘oft’, which would actually require a preceding comma
It was written long ago. My dreams now are often of the relief of ending, rather than constant and constantly increasing pain, while fighting desperately to keep on walking, and trying not to talk of pain. I haven’t been succeeding in that lately, but I have managed to increasingly approach nearer to silence in my personal life.
Entry filed under: Ancient Poetry, irony, Pain, philosophy, poetry, voices. Tags: poetry from voices, spring.
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