Poem 53: Yet still the sun rises

(The poetic form selected for this week is the aubade/ghazal).

The new born baby cried, yet still the sun rises.
The old man slowly died, yet still the sun rises.

First day at school with pencil, paper, books, and lunch;
In tears and petrified, yet still the sun rises.

They called it puppy love; perhaps that’s what it was.
She dreamed of being a bride, yet still the sun rises.

The marriage didn’t work; they drifted far apart.
Divorce was justified, yet still the sun rises.

The pattern of the days, forever monotone,
In dreary waves of tide, yet still the sun rises.

The leaders of our world dropped bombs on each other.
Nothing left………………………… yet still the sun rises.


24 thoughts on “Poem 53: Yet still the sun rises

  1. umashankar

    By the time we reach the maqta, there is ‘nothing left’ and the sun is firmly established as the crude ball of fire unconcerned with the drama of life. I loved how the everyday grind of world is represented by the mechanical motion of days following days.

  2. Nitin

    I remember reading one aubade that might have just kept a poet alive. It’s a sonnet but it’s brilliant though. I’ve never tried this form before. The refrain part is tough as hell.

    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      You used the word “aubade” (twice) and I had to look it up – and decided to use it. The ghazal form – more and more writers of poetry in English seem to be using it – and I haven’t followed all the “rules” here…

      1. Nitin

        Well the poem is April aubade by Sylvia Plath. Read it, it’s beautiful unlike Lady Lazarus, Lorelei or Cut. I discovered the word after reading her, two years ago, I think.

          1. Nitin

            I wonder sometimes why the future was lost. If you read The Bell Jar, you’ll find metaphorical madness slowly progressing towards apathy. That’s my interpretation at least. I guess it might be some ambivalence towards Someone. That’s the only thing that cripples me Bruce. I wrote about it in my poem Cold, where you talked about the 3000 page trilogy. But I took it down. It is a confessional poem. I don’t get it sometimes. I remember knowing and loving Christ, but my love just went away. Everybody I loved turned against me, and I tried seeking answers for a long time, being angry with both the world and God. It’s better to write about things, I guess. I deleted many blogs though. I wrote using pseudonyms because a lot of people here know me, and finally decided to just come back as myself. A few people in my personal life have come back now that I’m not that well. And it’s not the zealots who preach. And I guess I’m thankful. So I apologise for deleting comments, and I find myself slowly losing my memory. I just submitted a few assignments. I don’t know where things lead. Hopefully towards Kierkegaard and not a sickbed!

            1. Bruce Goodman Post author

              Nitin, it’s strange but I find that writing a blog is a lot more stressful than I ever imagined. It’s not the creative side that gets me down – I could do that all day – it’s the “audience”. It’s the problem I have of not wanting to offend so I answer politely every little 😀 and LOL as if it’s important. It’s probably important to them but in the end it wears me out, and instead of being nice and positive I suddenly find myself typing and sending “Why don’t you get a life, you snotty-nosed load of fucking bat shit?” And then I lose everybody and regret it and start being nice again. And then one day I get up and delete 4 years of stories because I’m fucked off again. (I’m not talking about you here – some people are worth the trouble!) So this blogging business is both a creative outlet (it gives me something to do) but it’s also the thing that both gets me down and lets me escape from a humdrum life where I spend all day worrying whether I can pay the rent this week (at my age!!) It’s my birthday next Wednesday, and I like birthdays! But we’re not celebrating it, just forgetting about it, because we always (it’s a complicated and happy reason) have French Onion Soup on my birthday (the feast of St Nicholas) – but this year we have no money left to get onions! I know these things are not important, but it overflows into the stress of not living a life. And now, they’ve limited the amount of broadband we can get in a month – so I’m restricted in the main with having to do things online between midnight and 6 am! So I’m not sure where to go – anyway, I’ve scheduled my daily blog (all done and dusted) until 18th July 2018!!!!! I could go on a trip to the Caribbean until then and not even look at the blog on a gadget/computer and it would still post. I’m an obsessive compulsive or something. Thanks for reading all this shit. Bruce

              1. Nitin

                You know Bruce. I guess you’re right about a lot of things. This blogging business is bloody stressful. It’s the comments you get, or people hating you when they write their verse. I can’t say that I haven’t done the same. I often feel like just leaving a few more poems and going away. It really depends on how things work out. And I apologise for your current circumstances. Mine were terrible once, but they’re a lot better now. You know there’s a famous writer in NZ who hates his sister. And that sister happens to be my mother. Sure, she’s flawed, but he was never there. And neither were my grandparents. He’s achieved a lot and they fully and completely support him, and cut ties with my mom, knowing that she had an extremely abusive, alcoholic, perverted husband. I’ll let you figure out who he is. And chill, you’ll stay a friend despite the path you take. Like I said, I like people who admit that they’ve made mistakes unlike sages who give you advise but don’t judge themselves. You’ll find tons on WP!

                  1. Nitin

                    Well, I think you deserve it. And I’m not just praising you. He first became famous doing something else and then got a publishing deal. You know how that works.

                    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

                      I’d just finished typing out another response to your last message (offline so as not to use up broadband), Here it is:
                      Further to this, Nitin – I would need a clue to this writer!! I’ll admit you said Mom and not Mum – so that places you sort of in the American continent – but did you uncle come to NZ from America or was he born here? I’ve just about used up all my monthly broadband allowance googling NZ male writers with a sister in America!! Having said that – more to the point, your father seems to have had difficulties – which led I would imagine to the eventual creation of some pretty good poetry by you (he said superciliously). Both my parents were heavy drinkers – more habitual I suspect – and argued like hell, but nothing abusive. And PS – I have got some onions for the birthday feast!!

                    2. Nitin

                      My uncle is a British Citizen, unless he’s given that up now, since he was born there. I don’t live in the US Bruce. I’m sorting things out and if things fall in place, I’ll tell you a little more about my life. I guess the whole American thing comes from reading too many American writers! Yes my father is undiagnosed bipolar but he refused to seek help and even verbally abused the psychiatrist. But he’s okay now, I guess. He reeks of self-pity though. But I forgive him and move on. I’m not sure about my uncle now though. I mean he does make a big deal about himself, but everybody I’ve talked to who is in NZ says that they haven’t heard of him! He was nominated for some big award in your country. He is not an artist. He’s in the science department. And when I say science, I’m not only talking about pure science. There those are the clues! And you won’t find his sister mentioned anywhere. You’ll just find him talking about his parents.

                    3. Bruce Goodman Post author

                      That’s a lot of clues, thanks. I shall continue to poke around – figuratively of course. Just watched the full harvest moon rise – spectacular!

                    4. Nitin

                      Well, if you ever poked literally, you’ll find him telling you a totally different story! I haven’t seen the moon or the stars for a long time. Too much pollution!

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