literature

Remembrance

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Literature Text

The last to go is         something fading,
leaving behind a trail of once-was, as bright
as the light bulb in the bathroom,
you realise ruefully, when the light goes out

and you’re left sitting on the toilet seat,
poetry magazine in hand. Thank God
you still remember where you keep your spectacles!

Thank God for those little flowers, R-something, as far as you recall,
for remembrance, worn scandalously by a goddess of something pink;
flowers your son floats on water in a bowl, which perhaps held
two sleepy fish before, but you couldn't say for sure.

For you’ve been broken down to pen on paper pinned to a fridge,
a childish portrait in ballpoint blue; down to a hollow in
the pillow where your white head rests. Yet you insist and
insist on being more than only the smell of you on your clothes.

And it's an unhappy wonder that wonders why you get up every dawn
to wander with purpose, somewhere, but instead stare at your feet,
bewildered: having forgotten which path to take,
having lost sight of any road at all.

No wonder the sun has lingered quietly
as a love poem in the echo of your heart. No wonder
some sparrows hop onto your porch to sing of something

you’ve lost so recently - maybe a smell, a summer,
or maybe your granddaughter’s gloves,
so you could feel her small hand in yours.
For the 2011 Re-vision Contest hosted by #TalentedWritersGuild, a response poem to Billy Collins' Forgetfulness. Go check out the contest, it's awesome! :eager: I tried to make it as poignant and sad and humorous as his is, but I think I made it sad and bad, or just bad. The flowers are rosemaries, by the way, the goddess is Aphrodite.

I'll appreciate anything you wish to dish out for critique. What to you think about the beginning strophe and the last line of the poem? Thank you. :heart:

FORGETFULNESS by Billy Collins (a link to the poem and an audio reading)

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
© 2011 - 2024 Vigilo
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SilverInkblot's avatar
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Overall
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Vision
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Originality
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Technique
:star::star::star::star::star-empty: Impact

I swear I've heard of Billy Collins before. I think I may have won a collection of his poetry once. Hrm. ANYway, on to the poem!

First of all, I'm curious about the space in the first line - intentional? Is there supposed to be a filler word in there? (and how on earth did you manage to get that space there? dA always fills space like that when I try it <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/n/n…" width="15" height="15" alt=":noes:" title="Noes!"/>)

I'm getting a kind of grandfatherly vibe from the words (though I suppose it could also be grandmotherly). I'm not sure why I'm leaning to the more masculine side though. I don't guess it really matters, but it might be something to mull over, especially if you do think it affects things.

I think it feels awfully wordy for a poem - I usually expect language to be a little more concise, tightened than this is in a poem. There are some little filler words you could cut out to tighten the cadence, or maybe a bit of rewording here and there. I just think it feels more prose-ish than poem-y if that makes any sense <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/x/x…" width="15" height="15" alt=":XD:" title="XD"/>