Survivors

Survivors

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Rm w/ Vu


I turn from where I stand at the window.
The pane is double frozen with the rime
of hard December.  Outside falls the shade
that marks the fullness and the fast limit
of these diminished days: the stunted light
that traps my vision and denies my gaze.

There is a fire to draw the spirits close,
and here in welcome silence have I paused
to call the murmurs of another world
that breaks its slumber when the sun subsides.
The gathered shadows whisper, and the flame
becomes a mirror for the soul's own light,
reflecting bold and bringing now to life
the shuttered vision of a heart's delight.
I have but to wish, and then to see,
catching each fleeting vapor at its dance;
and yet, how often fails my busy eye
to linger in this dreaming panoply.

There are hard limits to the use of words,
and in the silence that surrounds each thought
I play both sorcerer and crystal glass.
I am what shall, and what shall never, pass;
what soon will once have been, yet always is.
The memory of an echo of a song
tolls to proclaim an hour longtime gone:
the music of some quaint antiquity,
soft prelude to the chorus of regret;
it is all of me and all I know,
the silence and the song and the regret.
There will be song; there will be silence yet.

All this little world is still twilight,
and in the dizzy moments that lead me
to the ascent from daylight into dreams,
I rejoice to sing delights like these,
if only for a moment to assure
that I have grasped them ever as they are;
that something of the quaint eternal stays,
to salve the grind of intervening days;
that in the shapes of a receding past,
there might be found a moment set to last
more than this instant.

What secrets have we,
if such things reach the limits of their spell
with cooling embers, come the morning knell?
What memories of wonder have I kept
secure from scrutiny, thinking others slept?
Must it be vanity to wrest desire
out from the ashes of the midnight fire,
to wait, to see, to hear as I would do,
and trace a vision I might render true?

I woke to find full daylight on the world.
A backdraft from the empty hearth proclaims
the morning's greeting and dispels all dreams
that might have lingered to enchant a dawn.
The brittle music of the winter wind
sifts through the lapses in my dark redoubt.
Outside, a frozen light grips on the air,
one that would foster fear were I in need,
but there is kindling left to conjure dreams,
and last a season more against despair.

I am not fit for dreams or dreaming now,
and know not when nor where my waking leads,
for now the empty echoes only haunt.
There are others stirring in the house,
caught in the coda of their own silence,
fit music for the morning's overture—
though I have kept some few imaginings
to whisper bright reminders to the soul.

A challenge for the vision that endures:
the empty window frames a lifeless scene,
a fast and unrelenting monochrome,
a hieroglyph inscribed in ice and grit.
I shall find lingering charms
to caption it.

21 comments:

  1. There are hard limits to the use of words,
    and in the silence that surrounds each thought
    I play both sorcerer and crystal glass.
    I am what shall, and what shall never, pass;
    what soon will once have been, yet always is....really cool section there...and i really like as well the saving of those bright reminder for the soul as well man...really nice use of language through out as well to set the tone...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Each stanza stands strong on it's own Steve....truly a beautiful piece of poetry!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am not fit for dreams or dreaming now,
    and know not when nor where my waking leads,
    for now the empty echoes only haunt.
    There are others stirring in the house,
    caught in the coda of their own silence,
    fit music for the morning's overture—
    though I have kept some few imaginings
    to whisper bright reminders to the soul.


    Beautiful write...great lines through the entire piece. Loved it.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Not sure I want the music of the winter wind or any snow
    But tons of images did flow
    Really strong verse in every way
    With your dVerse display

    ReplyDelete
  5. this has such a beautiful mood to it, sitting before a fire is one of my favorite things in life you captured all the reasons why so well here.

    " I am what shall, and what shall never, pass;
    what soon will once have been, yet always is."

    these words grabbed me... really nice work all the way through.

    ReplyDelete
  6. STEVE!!! This is so freaking awesome! How can I pick a favorite phrase or line...the entire piece draws me in. I'm calling a new favorite on this one...just a fantastic read a loud!

    ReplyDelete
  7. really liked this steve, what a great celebration of not only music, sound, but of memory, the stuff that holds all of our pieces together. there seems to be a theme in a lot of these poems regards words and language, about getting passed their hard shells...

    "There are hard limits to the use of words,
    and in the silence that surrounds each thought
    I play both sorcerer and crystal glass."

    well said. really enjoyed this poem my friend.

    ReplyDelete
  8. "There are hard limits to the use of words,
    and in the silence that surrounds each thought
    I play both sorcerer and crystal glass.
    I am what shall, and what shall never, pass;"

    As always, your words have drawn me in...I read them over once and once again.
    Yeah, I know, commenting your poem with a rhyme. Probably not appropriate, but it popped into my head after reading this.
    Another beautifully penned poem, Steve. Love your style of writing--the rhyme, the ebb and flow of the words, like satin. A joy to read!

    ReplyDelete
  9. You know I've not read Forster (other than Passage to India) so I am afraid I dont recognize where he might fit in here. But this reminds me of that kind of privacy we seek - especially as we grow older - to be the only one's awake, only consciousness perceiving - a very pretty poem, with beautiful descriptions of this kind of solitude and a wonderful cadence throughout. k.

    ReplyDelete
  10. This has got to be my all time favorite, Steve. The third stanza resonates especially for me. The language weave, the cadence, rhythm..all cry for reading aloud. Truly masterful writing writing here! Bravo!

    ReplyDelete
  11. The brittle music of the winter wind
    sifts through the lapses in my dark redoubt.

    This - like many other lines and passages - I found enchanting.

    ReplyDelete
  12. What can say ~ you have a way of capturing the silence and echoing words of meloncholy and regrets ~ You have the gift of words ~

    ReplyDelete
  13. Within the light there is darkness...melancholy mixes with regret. You speak so eloquently of where I have often found myself.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Dense, haunting and beautiful. The imagery stuns! This is such a personal philosophical exploration, but done with mastery of rhythm, complex rhymes and subtle time shifts that match time of day to the season of the year. There is great care and craftsmanship in each line. I felt this not only a personal triumph for you, but also a truly important poem.

    ReplyDelete
  15. caught in the coda of their own silence,
    fit music for the morning's overture....love the music in this "song"...such melancholy and also much beauty

    ReplyDelete
  16. Definitely a haunting piece. I could feel the chill, and there are many great lines throughout.

    ReplyDelete
  17. the silence and the song and the regret.
    There will be song; there will be silence yet.

    The musical cadence here strangely fits the somber reflective tone, like some great barreled organ rolling ocean tides of solemn sunday hymns over shuttered houses. Too many good lines to quote, but the ending stanza perhaps my favorite of all the bittersweet rhymes you've conjured here. And as always, your mood resonates--we lit the fireplace for the first time this season night before last and I'm always the one that stays up feeding it till the wee hours, being sorceress and crystal glass.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Classic
    I could derive a dozen excellent quotes
    nice resolution

    ReplyDelete
  19. Wonderful. It could have been written 100 years ago or 100 years from now. Classic as Moondustwriter said. I especially liked "I am what shall, and what shall never, pass; what soon will once have been, yet always is" and "lapses in my dark redoubt". Well done!

    ReplyDelete
  20. This wonderful poem - you had no 'hard limits to the use of words' A beautiful and moving piece. K

    ReplyDelete
  21. A revisit to this beautiful poem has me captivated yet again, Steve. I still think this is one of your best, and hope that you will enter it into a competition! Just love it..powerful and touching. :))

    ReplyDelete