Dream
There was a beautiful girl sitting there.
She was young, in the glory of her youth.
Much younger than I.
Her white dress was unstained.
There was an old man, crooked and arrogant.
Unrepentant of his ways
He had devoted much to his work, and was paid
Handsomely.
His handsome payment he thought of himself.
He reached out for her golden hair
She ran away to the library.
He could afford her and anyone else he wished to buy.
So she worked for him.
She worked very hard, but her resolve was unbreakable
Her dreams were untamable.
Her dress was unstained.
She ran away to the library after hours.
The boys from the block would play there
Read there, study there.
They were many and few.
A group of five came to tease her daily
And she joined in the play.
She was a child. They were children.
One day a young boy fell in love.
He decided that this beautiful young girl
Had a heart to be caught and that he could do this.
He tried and failed repeatedly
It was not that this girl wanted marbles he found out.
She did not desire for him to spout sonnets.
She knew all of them better than he did anyway.
His young friend then suggested something he'd read about once.
So the boy in love stole his mother's finest linen from his freshly made bed.
He built a table beside the library.
He collected candles and brought them about.
Made some sandwiches and waited.
The girl was quite hungry he knew.
He handed her a sandwich...a candlelight sandwich.
She laughed at him
Her laughter brought wind.
The wind blew his mother's finest linen into the fire
It ignited and blew away.
The boy, defeated cried out.
The girl, amused gave him a thimbleful of joy to drink at a later time
And she ran away to her horrible home with the crooked man.
The boy loved her and became a year older.
This time it would work.
His young friend helped him.
They built one thousand kites together out of the storybooks they read.
They attached the bindings and the pages.
They painted each with hope.
They found a length of string and rope.
The young lady, ever inquisitive, ever elusive,
Decided to come upon and enquire what it was they had achieved.
He covered her eyes, set her upon his own knee.
They sat in a chair together.
The kites filled the sky.
Her laughter brought the wind.
The chair inched its way into the great blue
And they flew together into the sunset.
The colors of the sky stained her reality.
The painted kites glowed proudly,
Dotting the clouds.
The clouds smiled on the two children.
She held him and knew that now...
Now...nothing could stop them from flying.
She was young, in the glory of her youth.
Much younger than I.
Her white dress was unstained.
There was an old man, crooked and arrogant.
Unrepentant of his ways
He had devoted much to his work, and was paid
Handsomely.
His handsome payment he thought of himself.
He reached out for her golden hair
She ran away to the library.
He could afford her and anyone else he wished to buy.
So she worked for him.
She worked very hard, but her resolve was unbreakable
Her dreams were untamable.
Her dress was unstained.
She ran away to the library after hours.
The boys from the block would play there
Read there, study there.
They were many and few.
A group of five came to tease her daily
And she joined in the play.
She was a child. They were children.
One day a young boy fell in love.
He decided that this beautiful young girl
Had a heart to be caught and that he could do this.
He tried and failed repeatedly
It was not that this girl wanted marbles he found out.
She did not desire for him to spout sonnets.
She knew all of them better than he did anyway.
His young friend then suggested something he'd read about once.
So the boy in love stole his mother's finest linen from his freshly made bed.
He built a table beside the library.
He collected candles and brought them about.
Made some sandwiches and waited.
The girl was quite hungry he knew.
He handed her a sandwich...a candlelight sandwich.
She laughed at him
Her laughter brought wind.
The wind blew his mother's finest linen into the fire
It ignited and blew away.
The boy, defeated cried out.
The girl, amused gave him a thimbleful of joy to drink at a later time
And she ran away to her horrible home with the crooked man.
The boy loved her and became a year older.
This time it would work.
His young friend helped him.
They built one thousand kites together out of the storybooks they read.
They attached the bindings and the pages.
They painted each with hope.
They found a length of string and rope.
The young lady, ever inquisitive, ever elusive,
Decided to come upon and enquire what it was they had achieved.
He covered her eyes, set her upon his own knee.
They sat in a chair together.
The kites filled the sky.
Her laughter brought the wind.
The chair inched its way into the great blue
And they flew together into the sunset.
The colors of the sky stained her reality.
The painted kites glowed proudly,
Dotting the clouds.
The clouds smiled on the two children.
She held him and knew that now...
Now...nothing could stop them from flying.
posted by dyingember at 12:50 PM
1 Comments:
Four Poems for Robin
by Gary Snyder
Siwashing It Out Once in Suislaw Forest
I slept under rhododendron
All night blossoms fell
Shivering on a sheet of cardboard
Feet stuck in my pack
Hands deep in my pockets
Barely able to sleep.
I remembered when we were in school
Sleeping together in a big warm bed
We were the youngest lovers
When we broke up we were still nineteen
Now our friends are married
You teach school back east
I dont mind living this way
Green hills the long blue beach
But sometimes sleeping in the open
I think back when I had you.
A Spring Night in Shokoku-ji
Eight years ago this May
We walked under cherry blossoms
At night in an orchard in Oregon.
All that I wanted then
Is forgotten now, but you.
Here in the night
In a garden of the old capital
I feel the trembling ghost of Yugao
I remember your cool body
Naked under a summer cotton dress.
An Autumn Morning in Shokoku-ji
Last night watching the Pleiades,
Breath smoking in the moonlight,
Bitter memory like vomit
Choked my throat.
I unrolled a sleeping bag
On mats on the porch
Under thick autumn stars.
In dream you appeared
(Three times in nine years)
Wild, cold, and accusing.
I woke shamed and angry:
The pointless wars of the heart.
Almost dawn. Venus and Jupiter.
The first time I have
Ever seen them close.
December at Yase
You said, that October,
In the tall dry grass by the orchard
When you chose to be free,
"Again someday, maybe ten years."
After college I saw you
One time. You were strange.
And I was obsessed with a plan.
Now ten years and more have
Gone by: I've always known
where you were--
I might have gone to you
Hoping to win your love back.
You still are single.
I didn't.
I thought I must make it alone. I
Have done that.
Only in dream, like this dawn,
Does the grave, awed intensity
Of our young love
Return to my mind, to my flesh.
We had what the others
All crave and seek for;
We left it behind at nineteen.
I feel ancient, as though I had
Lived many lives.
And may never now know
If I am a fool
Or have done what my
karma demands.
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