my life in poetry....

jacjessen90's picture

my mother has always wanted me to get married, have kids, etc....and now i've thought that this is exactly what i want, with a few major details changed.....have you ever felt like this? if so, what was it like? so, here are a few poems to explain what i'm feeling, via my mother's veiw of marrage for me:

(to my sons)
They are standing at the river's edge; sometimes
I watch them, sometimes
I cannot bear to watch, sometimes
I wish for the river to run upstream, back to the mountains,
Blue as the sky, as grief, as delusion.

They are playing by the river's edge; sometimes
Long past sunset, i hear them in the wind that shakes
The cottonwoods. I cannot bear to listen.
In my heart i know sometimes
That the river has reversed its course; i know sometimes
That the river will not turn back till its watery end,
Black as the sky, as grief, as disillusion.

They have walked away from the river's edge; i have named them
After the gods. Sometimes
I do not think they are coming home. Sometimes, not daring to look,
I say when i open my eyes they will be long gone, not gone;
That the river will run upstream,downstream.
Better not to look at all; for in the momentary closure,
The blink's breadth betwixt two truths is what i feel for them; sometimes
I know what it is to love.
Red as the sky, as grief, as joy.

(to my son)
He is standing by the river's edge;sometimes
I watch him; sometimes
I cannot bear to watch., sometimes
I wish for the river to run upstream, back to the mountains
Blue as the sky, as grief, as desolation.

He is playing by the river's edge; sometimes
I feel he is not alone. I hear a second laugh in the wind that shakes
The cottonwoods. I cannot bear to listen,
Knowing as i know the one unborn, the one i have named
God, because he is my son's dark elder self.
If the river had run backword my other son would not
Cry out to me from the depths. In my heart i know sometimes
That the river will not turn back till its watery end,
Black as sky, as grief as disillusion.

He is walking away from the river's edge;
I think he will never come home.
Better I do not look at all; for in the momentary closure,
The blink's breadth betwixt two truths, two truths can both be true.
When i close my eyes i have two sons, and each
Is the others shadow. Surely he would notr play alone,
Or stand alone at the river's edge or walk away,
And leave behind his shadow,
Grey as the sky, as loneliness, as love.

(to my wife's sons)
When she stands at the river's edge, sometimes
I watch her, sometimes
Knowing the things she does, unknowable to me,
I cannot bear to watch; sometimes
I wish for the river to run upstream, back to the mountains,
Blue as the sky, as grief, as desolation.

She sees them playing by the river's edge; sometimes
I think i hear their laughter in the wind that shakes
The cottonwoods. i cannot bear to listen,
Knowing she suckles the stillborn, unborn
Gods, her dream selves, drawn from the secret river
Inside. Oh, turn the tide, push back the waterfall, make her no longer
Cry out to me from the depths. In my heart i know sometimes
That the river wil not turn back till it reaches its watery end,
Black as the sky, as grief, as disillusion.

She is walking away from the river's edge; sometimes
I know she will never come home.
Better i do not look at all; for in the momentary closure,
The blink's breadth betwixt two truths, two truths can both be true.
When i close my eyes i have two sons,and each
Is the others shadow; she is the two breasted Madonna
Who suckles the dark and the light, the quick and the lifeless;
Red as blood, as desire, as disenchantment.

(from my sons)
When i stand at the river's edge, sometimes
I feel you watching me; sometimes
I think you cannot bear to watch me,
Knowing the things you know, unknowable to me.
I can only know that things i have touched and seen,
Not rivers that run upstream, back to the mountains,
Not truths within truths, or dreams with in dreams,
Gray as the sky, as loneliness, as love.

But you can know the laughter of the wind that shakes
The cottonwoods; and you can know
The flavour of the milk that suckles the unborn, stillborn gods,
Your dream-selves; you can drink from the secret river
Inside.
Oh, turn the tide,push back the waterfall, let me hear for once
The voices from the depths; for in my heart i know
These things are real; the river has turned backword;
The river will not turn backward till its watery end,
Black as the sky, as night, as self-destruction.

Don't let me walk away from the river's edge; I know
I will have to enter the water to come home. I know
That in the blink's breadth betwixt two truths, that i must grasp
Both truths and make them one. I have two sons. I have heard them.
I have seeded the two-breasted Madonna who suckles the dark
And light; the quick and the lifeless: the transient, the eternal,
Red as the sky, as desire,as death.

(to myself)
I have come back from the river's edge; sometimes
I wish i had never gone, sometimes
I know I cannot stem the stream of time, however hard
I long for the river to run backward to the mountians,
Blue as sky, as grief, as delusion.

They have stopped playing by the river's edge; but sometimes
Long past sunset, I can still hear them in the wind that shakes
The cottonwoods. I cannot bear to listen.
In my heart I know sometimes
The river has reversed its course; I know sometimes
That the river will not turn back till its watery end,
Black as the sky, as grief, as disillusion.

I will not follow them back from the river's edge; sometimes
I do not think they are coming home. Sometimes not daring to look,
I say when i open my eyes they will be long gone, not gone;
That the river will run upstream, downstream.
I have named them after the gods, hoping to become one myself.
better not to look at all; for in the momentary closure,
The blink's breadth betwixt two truths, two truths can both be true.
The tension betwixt two truths is what i feel for them; sometimes
I know it to be love.
Red as the sky, as grief, as joy.

(i will add to these poems as i have time... leave comments if you wish...the question's in the heading)