Coconut
Member
- Joined
- Feb 17, 2005
- Messages
- 4,663
I really liked the depth of this poem, it reminds me of Solomons writings in Ecclesiastes...
REFLECTION by Albert Huffstickler
I am thinking of the old, good things people do:
of hillbillies drinking themselves to death over a woman
or killing the woman they love
and going to jail and sitting there year after year
singing songs about it and thinking about freedom
and of women who live on the streets
and comfort the men who seek them out for money
and of young boys who buy a guitar and go on the road
seeking the face of fame across the distance.
I am thinking of men who create pain and hunger for themselves,
then relish it with a fierce, final joy:
the ascetic eating berries in the burning desert, courting visions,
of the obsessed, the life-hungry,
the mystics and the wise madmen who tell you how you are
then laugh at you because your madness is deeper than theirs.
I am thinking of all the men who died or went mad over women,
shaping their lives with the finality of stone,
brooding like sculptors over the shape and beauty of their madness,
the subtleties of their particular anguish.
I am thinking of women waiting for wars to end
and their men to come home
and of women slipping from their homes to meet a lover
and of women weeping over a lost child or a dead one,
sculpting their grief in stone like Niobe.
I am thinking of the beautiful things people can do with a lifetime
and of the terrible things they can do with a lifetime,
I am thinking of how they can craze themselves with grief and anguish
then defend their work with the jealous rage of a poet.
I am thinking of all the dull people trudging to dull jobs
with their shadows humped beside them
and the dull rage growing in them
till they explode into madness or illness.
I am thinking of the shape of that madness or illness
and how they nurture and refine it
with the delicate care of a potter before the wheel.
I am thinking of the care with which people shape their lives,
of the old, treasured things they do.
I am thinking that we are all creators,
meticulously working,
centered in our creation.
Ecc 12:1 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;
REFLECTION by Albert Huffstickler
I am thinking of the old, good things people do:
of hillbillies drinking themselves to death over a woman
or killing the woman they love
and going to jail and sitting there year after year
singing songs about it and thinking about freedom
and of women who live on the streets
and comfort the men who seek them out for money
and of young boys who buy a guitar and go on the road
seeking the face of fame across the distance.
I am thinking of men who create pain and hunger for themselves,
then relish it with a fierce, final joy:
the ascetic eating berries in the burning desert, courting visions,
of the obsessed, the life-hungry,
the mystics and the wise madmen who tell you how you are
then laugh at you because your madness is deeper than theirs.
I am thinking of all the men who died or went mad over women,
shaping their lives with the finality of stone,
brooding like sculptors over the shape and beauty of their madness,
the subtleties of their particular anguish.
I am thinking of women waiting for wars to end
and their men to come home
and of women slipping from their homes to meet a lover
and of women weeping over a lost child or a dead one,
sculpting their grief in stone like Niobe.
I am thinking of the beautiful things people can do with a lifetime
and of the terrible things they can do with a lifetime,
I am thinking of how they can craze themselves with grief and anguish
then defend their work with the jealous rage of a poet.
I am thinking of all the dull people trudging to dull jobs
with their shadows humped beside them
and the dull rage growing in them
till they explode into madness or illness.
I am thinking of the shape of that madness or illness
and how they nurture and refine it
with the delicate care of a potter before the wheel.
I am thinking of the care with which people shape their lives,
of the old, treasured things they do.
I am thinking that we are all creators,
meticulously working,
centered in our creation.
Ecc 12:1 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;
