Revenant
At parting, saying -
"Let us agree we both prefer
'Goodbye' to tears. Learn to accept
and not condemn. The past
never was the future's stage."
A carriage window sliced this valediction.
Work, infidelities and towns
slipped by to undiscovered ends,
while the unquiet ghost for half a lifetime
turned triumph - yes, even that - to puffs of smoke -
(Mists laid on English shires at twilight,
fingers on a candid lip in sleep . . . )
Then in some undistinguished capital,
Buda? Trieste? - in just that sort
of backwater cafe where conversations
hatched against despair
stutter towards another rented pillow,
the smoky lights revealed -
skin no longer absolutely young,
the smile that lay in wait -
a dress that could not - surely - be the same?
"No logic, dearest, please,
or laying blame. I answered only
the motiveless appeal of happiness . . "
(Quoting another poet! At such a meeting!
I should have . . . )
Ah, but her fingers, placed
with such complicity, such care,
placed where the bloodstroke like a habit burns,
sought my acceptance of her affirmation.
My actress on her stage,
ageless and English,
her tear precluding tears.
Reading your superb poem has whet my appetite to write more poetry. I haven't written any for so long - I think I should.
ReplyDeleteJulie
Thank you Julie. Most kind!
ReplyDeleteI'd like to know the story behind the birth of this poem...I especially liked this verse:-
ReplyDeleteWork, infidelities and towns
slipped by to undiscovered ends,
while the unquiet ghost for half a lifetime
turned triumph - yes, even that - to puffs of smoke -
(Mists laid on English shires at twilight,
fingers on a candid lip in sleep . . . )
It seems full of 'what might have been', and fills me with sadness.
Thank you, Jinsky. "What might have been" - isn't most of life like that? The genesis of the poem, like "Letter From Dubrovnik", further down the blog, is an incident somewhere in Lawrence Durrell's "Alexandria Quartet" - which is full of folk wondering if they'll ever see each other again! Even the lines in parenthesis are a Durrell trick. He often throws in little asides which may or may not have a relevance for the individual reader.
ReplyDeleteThe third stanza is stunnng.Shades of TS Eliot with a dollop of Graham Greene.
ReplyDelete'a backwater cafe where conversations hatched
against despair stutter towards another
rented pillow'Effective imagery and elegant syntax conveys the grim encounter.I liked this poem.You create a mood.Very impressed.What does Dr FTSE (Footsie)mean?
Rallentanda - thank you. Your comment is really encouraging.
ReplyDeleteFTSE? Initial letters of Financial Times Stock Exchange!
Perhaps you need to have a peep at the linked blog Dr.FTSE - above.
Investors almost always do pronounce it "Footsie".
In full "The Financial Times Stock Exchange Index of 100 Leading Shares"