(The lovely, late Cynthia Jobin – whom a number of you would have encountered – used to re-post earlier posted poems when she had no time or the muse had vanished. What is good for the goose is good for the gander. I shall do the same! This poem – From the hill in autumn – was the first poem I posted, way back. To be honest, I wrote it when I was 18. It’s autumn here now – so it’s appropriate enough. I am 68 so the poem is 50 years old! AND, according to my youthful 18-year old mind, I’m apparently meant to be dead by now!)
It’s lovely from the hill today.
A flock of autumn crows are twirling near
And floating-slow like burnt paper in air,
And vines blood and yellow on a black butterfly
Die slowly as the cold comes
In leaden droplets. Far away, hills turn, hand in hand,
As giant square-dancers turn, happy in a warmer land.
The purple winds call old, sad melodies.
When fifty years limp by and I’m bones and cold
With yellow skin a tattered leaf,
They’ll say, though his bones be straight,
His heart was bent and cried
Like a child on its lonely walks.
It’s autumn, and the scarecrowed trees shed gold.
To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.
Oh, Bruce, Cynthia would have loved this, and had interesting things to say.
Why did she make such an impact on some of us? I wonder if she knows we still think of her?
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Did you know they are preparing a second volume of the rest of her unpublished poems? It might not be out for a while.
Another thing, my friend Eric had decided to try make a model railway, so he looked at the map and settled on a small town. He got maps and photos and made plans. I was unaware that Cynthia had died, and Eric didn’t know her from a bar of soap. The town he had selected was Rumsford Falls – of all the towns in the world – and it was where Cynthia lived!!! I didn’t know where she lived either at that stage!
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I absolutely love how our lives entwine , sometimes without us even being aware.
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I came across her postmortem via Uma…her poetry was wonderful. What is the name of the first volume? is it available? or do you know?
Your 50 year old poem is fabulous. Youth, what do they know of aging 🙂
In an Agatha Christie story, her character interviews an elderly couple. They are 59! Seriously? 59! oh, my 🙂
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Thanks for your comment. Cynthia’s book of poetry is called “A Certain Age” – I don’t think it’s available on Amazon. And now that she’s gone, she can’t obviously post a copy!
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I do miss Cynthia. And such a poem at 18, Bruce! The intensity and imagined future, and that last line! It’s packed. Yes, the young–even our young selves–don’t expect us to be around and kind of discount us. I hope you forgive your young self.
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LOL! I’m only too grateful to have proven my younger self wrong!!
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Glad you dug it out. Cynthia would have had much more trenchant things to say than I would about it. I need to read it again.
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The aching beauty of this poem has rendered me speechless. The surfeit of visual imagery, intense and immediate, refuses to leave the vision. The delectable pictures fuse seamlessly with metaphysical strains. The lone closing line is stunningly visual and philosophical. Even if you miscalculated the trajectory at the point, I am awed at what you could write at that age! Did Cynthia read it? Every time I write a ghazal, I miss her not reading it. Do keep us posted about her compilations they plan to publish.
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I believe they are going to include all the unpublished poems that were on her blog (i.e. the ones not in “A Certain Age”.) – except probably not include the poems in French. You would have read them all because you scanned her blog closely! Thank you for the comments – yes, Cynthia read this poem, and gave it a like – but most of the poems I posted early on she had read but not commented. I was not that much earlier than you in getting to meet her – so there was a pile of stuff on my blog that I would imagine she didn’t get around to!
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The weird thing about blogging is it is incredibly focused on the present, the ‘now’, as against a book where one progresses sequentially. Perhaps it has something to do we have evolved!
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I guess (and never thought this would happen) I can’t keep up. Someone recently tagged me on a photo on Facebook – dozens from my past (at least I thought so) messaged me – and I couldn’t find where to answer any of them. Facebook is not user friendly in my book! So I’m trying to let it die again (Facebook that is). In the meantime, I am getting adverts galore about what the messages spoke about, so I guess Big Brother is watching???
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I hope the Big Brother freaks out one of these days watching all those perverts spilled out on the third rock from the sun, and gets institutionalised.
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I’m pleased you’ve made it so far 🙂 Good poem. Strangely enough, I mentioned Cynthia in a comment a day or two ago
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I’m pleased to have made it thus far too!! Cynthia has a habit of popping up!
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Beautiful poem. You were a very talented, thoughtful teenager.
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Thanks! I was as introverted as they come!
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