Poem 15: Thus ends

16dad

Thus ends the last summer my father saw.
No one comes back, yet
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

His last days fell full, he could no more
Caste his kindly net.
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.

Mid-autumn’s sun can still burn raw,
But longer shadows set.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

Hoar winter numbs hearts, stuns the core,
The callous wind throws forth her frozen net.
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.

Spring returns, so say platitudes of yore,
But things get farther set.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

Death strikes us dumb, grief mixed with awe,
And makes pretensions smaller yet;
Thus ends the last summer my father saw.
Seasons turn as if a turning door.

29 thoughts on “Poem 15: Thus ends

  1. Cynthia Jobin

    You have found the magical and beautiful that is possible with the villanelle. I am very moved by this, Bruce. The grief and awe are poignantly there, but, as a Dylan Thomas poem would have it—you sang in your chains like the sea…..

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    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      And further to that… I have a little garden running along the edge of my garage. To plant sunflowers or gladioli today? That is the question. Gladioli, I thought. But then a certain page 8 of a certain age said to plant sunflowers. I shall plant both! Neither will know they mean all that…

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    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      Thanks, Lisa. I like your lead glass image. I think T.S. Eliot wrote (from memory):

      Light directed through the coloured panes of window
      Our gaze is submarine, our eyes look upward
      And see the light that fractures through unquiet water.

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    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      Thank you- on all counts Shubha! And for those who wonder about the term All Blacks – it’s the color of the New Zealand rugby teams uniform – all black. And they have been known as the All Blacks for countless generations! So it’s nothing to do with ones place of ethnic origin!

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    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      Thanks, Peter. It’s a great privilege to have something “liked” by a writer of wonderful blog postings – such as you – whose works can create the teeniest-weeniest feeling of inadequacy within me!

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