I am disappointed by the mirror But disappointment edges with surprise When my clouding image looms up clearer And I think I see madness in my eyes
When I was a boy I waited to see If my eyes could mark the miles of life as Time and its tumult made a man of me And now since I have lived so long it has Been ever more clear I never got near To life except by serendipity
Whatever a man is I do not think That this is what I had in mind at all If man is fallen this must be his fall That is what I see here: I see the brink Just beyond yet behind where stained eyes strain Out of what was to what is and must be
I cringe at this image over this sink Surrounded by bathroom banality Where once I stood in boyhood dreaming here I see my boyhood eyes destroyed by pain Burned in the darkness and branded with fear Trapped in this life-death mask mortality
Is this how it happens? Where is that boy Who had no idea it would be this way Who waited to mark the miles and enjoy What seemed to him some endless holiday?
This is not what that boy waited to see I shudder to think of how he must feel I am too disappointed to explain But he is blind now not to see again And having gone I hope he has gone free Where nightmares shown in mirrors are not real
What vision disappointment left surprise Took that when he saw madness in my eyes And though I age it was he who made me So I would like to find him if I can To say I was sorry to see him go And that he was me just so he would know
A boy like that might fear this crazy man Perhaps we will meet in eternity Where we could forget about all of this Enlightened there by sheer lucidity Disappointed eyes surprised by a kiss To make a man of him a boy of me
This is such a deep and lyrical write. Could easily be a song...
Chrissy
Reviewed by Franziska Brueggerhoff (Reader)
Reviewed on October 2, 2007
I have also been listening to the voice of my younger past self, though not enough so I'm very glad you posted this poem to remember my former lively, provoking, hyper enthusiastic attitude which has suffered and learned through words, experience and loss
I like how the developed adult in this poem realizes his imperfection as man and the earth he treads on is not perfect
Where a young boy or girl would aspire to greatness in youth
" Whatever a man is I do not think
That this is what I had in mind at all
If man is fallen this must be his fall
That is what I see here: I see the brink
Just beyond yet behind where stained eyes strain
Out of what was to what is and must be "
And the last stanza, where you learn from each other, where the self understands itself also perhaps with an understanding that is beyond ours, where past, present and future meet in the meaning of the making with a view in tune with the inner and outer presence, existence
This poem speaks of loss, grief and remorse [I think]. It is so hard for a boy to be a father to his father. My son took better care of his father than his father of him. I trust that you have a clearer vision of what a father/man is supposed to be.
Contraband Marriage, traveling along the hemline of loving after incarceration, is a love story written in lyric and free form, set in reality with a different ever after.
Under Amber Skies, written by author and poet Jill Eisnaugle, is a wonderful collection of rhyming poetry guaranteed to please every reader. In this, her second book, she writes of new friendships kindled, as well as old friendships solidified. She g
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Chrissy
I like how the developed adult in this poem realizes his imperfection as man and the earth he treads on is not perfect
Where a young boy or girl would aspire to greatness in youth
" Whatever a man is I do not think
That this is what I had in mind at all
If man is fallen this must be his fall
That is what I see here: I see the brink
Just beyond yet behind where stained eyes strain
Out of what was to what is and must be "
And the last stanza, where you learn from each other, where the self understands itself also perhaps with an understanding that is beyond ours, where past, present and future meet in the meaning of the making with a view in tune with the inner and outer presence, existence
I send you my love, thanks for being there
+F
Kathy