Beside You

October 8, 2008 at 7:19 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 21 Comments
Tags: poetry, writing

When the last tear was shed and there was only breath
and the white cotton dress was
forgotten again
and you were brushing your hair in the mirror

When guitars existed only in paintings
and blank verse had purpose that was
not prophecy
when real winter was mere imagination

I heard Oscar Peterson playing
Eartha Kitt singing My Heart Belongs
To Daddy
and wished Sylvia Plath had never existed

21 Comments »

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Beautiful sad sounds that make this so sweet before the slight aside at the end. I think I’ve told you before that one poet I know reckons that too many ‘and’s create a cliché of flow in verse but, as I said to him at the time, I know someone who has mastered it ‘and’ it adds to the feeling within his (your) work greatly. This is wonderful.

Comment by Mary P— October 8, 2008 #
Gloomy yet soft…
secure…

Why Sylvia? If not too private…

Comment by hayat— October 8, 2008 #
Beautiful, sweet sadness of which to partake. I drink in your poetry every morning with my coffee!

Comment by Fitch— October 8, 2008 #
The aside at the end, as Mary P called it, is perfect, I think, regardless of why it’s there.

Invoking Plath is often enough of a “why” in itself, though I must admit, like hayat, I’m curious as well.

This is a lovely moody poem on this lovely moody morning.

Comment by Elizavetta— October 9, 2008 #
“Où sont les neiges d’antan?”, is this nostalgic or am I just imaging it?

why Sylvia Plath – is she the prophetess of blank verse?

Comment by Annamari— October 9, 2008 #
god thats a beautiful haunting melody
the notes span eleven octaves and at least three decades
weaving burlap knots and threads into a silk
score a scarf sylvia plath wore

Comment by tipota— October 9, 2008 #
pretty sweet sighs

Comment by aefiel— October 9, 2008 #
It’s about the last tear, so there is hope still. It’s a lovely piece with music. Thank you.

Comment by maelinat— October 9, 2008 #
quite a poignant literary as well as a musical elegy…

Comment by Chico Mahalo— October 9, 2008 #
ohhhh those momentios perfectas …

no issues just the zen … no anxst just the harmony …

but like winter there’s an anticipation .. and there are always things we wish we didn’t know … expect .. *sigh ..

i may have this all misguided, Paul, and i’m ignorant musically too … but maelinat is onto something mentioning hope as he does … maybe?

i love how the intimate detail of the first stanza escalates, with quiet internal drama, into pushing aside whatever might come next ….

and i’m rambling, hey?

beautiful, Paul

Comment by Shell— October 9, 2008 #
well structured, smooth rhythm, haunting, mysterious, beautiful

i need to relisten to that song

Comment by artpredator— October 9, 2008 #
Thanks everybody. One of Sylvia Plath’s most famous poems, often held up as a high achievement in blank verse is “Daddy” which you can read here. It is horrible and shrieking and ends

“There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.”

Eartha Kitt singing “My Heart Belongs To Daddy” is one of the cutest sexiest things I’ve ever heard.

The two references balance each other round the relationship.

Comment by Paul— October 9, 2008 #
thanks for including the links for us; i’d never seen that video and it’d been awhile since i’d paid attention to the song. i know the sylvia plath poem, and thought it might be connected to the previous poem (burning bridges). the most famous guitars painted to me are cubist but i hadn’t put it all together. it is all there, waiting for the puzzling out.

Comment by artpredator— October 9, 2008 #
Beautiful & haunting. Thanks for the link to Sylvias work. She is one of my favorites. I relate to her work so well. Here is an interesting article I thought you might enjoy..

http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/conditions/10/07/creativity.depression/

Comment by Tina— October 10, 2008 #
You know I know the Poem “Daddy”. And I am not too proud to admit I got a little choked up reading this. It has a very nice, sad tone to it. Well Done.

Comment by Paul— October 10, 2008 #
while I quite like Sylvia, I must admit I’m rather fond of this – like two icecream varieties to the tongue. This is taught, disciplined, and moving. As if walking through a painting, at times.

Comment by peterandthehare— October 10, 2008 #
i really enjoyed the links here paul. thank you for this post, absolutely fascinating. i especially enjoyed the posts’ winterness.

Comment by mrs. sarah ott— October 10, 2008 #
deep thoughts Paul..deep thoughts.

Comment by nectarfizz— October 16, 2008 #
[…] Beside you and By a Rushing Stream a Soldier Knelt, by Paul at Gingatao […]

Pingback by Sex? Hold on, I’m looking for it.— October 18, 2008 #
How I wish I could write this again.

Comment by Paul— February 1, 2009 #
why?

you can you know

you can do what you want on your blog

delete it or write it anew with a new post; link it or not

Comment by art predator— February 2, 2009 #