**NEED SUBSCRIPTIONS** Rate, Comment, PLEASE** http://www.stanleypacion.com/home.html/ WORDS & LINKS HERE. From an original poetic selection in his collected prose and verse entitled, A BIG BOOK OF MY OWN, Stanley Pacion recites that nothing in this life is permanent, that love itself dies. . For this POEM ....Original BLOG LISTING October 8, 2009.
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/2009/10/young-love-it-drifts-away-iii.html
POEM UPDATED December 17, 2009
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/2009/12/young-love-it-drifts-away-iv.html
YOUNG LOVE,
It Drifts Away, III
When we had met, mask of youth,
And its costume was still upon you,
Then the next year, 9/11, it marked the city forever,
Downtown burned, towers had fallen, and all the dead,
Though today, it hard to believe,
The smell dominated the air,
Yet there at last days of December, it was,
All the way to West 26th Street,
A bad omen, I guess.
I remember that Christmas Eve,
Your first and only holiday spent in New York,
You later confided.
You were different then, more girl
Than the grown woman you are today.
You had bought silver jewelry,
I was at market and you stood before the showcase,
Studied the pieces, awaited me to make the move
And price to drop, bargained without word,
Used patience as your tool, you figured,
I was in a hurry, wanted to get home.
It seems halcyon, when I look back,
Though the impact of that disaster surrounded us,
When I picture you, recall your eyes
Expectant, be-all, the end-all,
Tomorrows promise, stayed awesome and bright,
I want to say, etched,
But no lines, at that time visited your face.
You were different then, more girl
Than the grown woman you are today.
And you appeared happy, light upon your feet,
I judge your back had not come to bother you yet.
You had a man, and you relished in his friendship,
Maybe you wished the start to family,
Saw for yourself a real, happy ending, hey?
My defenses were still intact,
No idea you would play, lead in dream-wish drama,
Whose title read, cherished above all others,
That when I fell within the sphere of your limbs,
I would start believing,
Make it an apostles creed, a matter of faith,
Though love be only a feeling, it drifts away.
All good sense and sensibility abandoned, I was yours,
The pleasure of your company engulfed me,
And once I placed my hand upon your knee,
Oh heart beat, beating fast, lasting long, day after day,
Together, no matter what I might have done,
However I might have conspired to end it.
You said, love, now and forever,
I know its trite, nothing I should write,
Unworthy of poetry, your promise,
Yeah, until the end of time, and you,
Today I feel, as if, you had purposefully played me,
You laughed at notion, desire might ever wane,
Though love be only a feeling,
You swore ours here to stay.
Anyone who seeks,
Fervidly wants dream come true,
Gets the sense of what I am saying, knows
The terrible desire, that were it possible,
A replay of yesterdays grassy splendor,
To enjoy again the glory in the flower,
Despite the rapid descent, the finality marking,
Every bit of human radiance and beauty,
No matter how grand, ambitious the effort,
-- Isnt it already written? --
The rainbow comes and goes,
Some where out at space times edge,
Gamma ray bursts post daily funerary notice.
Entire worlds disappear, who calculates that agony?
No human comprehends the sorrow,
Immensity overwhelms us,
And we might simply shrug our shoulders,
What answer when there is pain and life no more?
We acknowledge how impossible to variegate the end,
Great, bright light, then extermination!
And for us, for you and me, it is same story,
Anguish, the very definition,
To cling to silly notions, and hold them right,
When the telephone is off the hook,
And all the doors are shut.
World knows, love, only a feeling,
It drifts away, and, I, fool, believed, I believed,
I thought at odds, forgot the foreboding,
Paid no heed to events, the remains,
The awful atmosphere of Christmas, that December,
Instead, sure we had mastered of our affections,
Our land, the land called Eden,
Positive we had won, and continued the delusion
That, and as you had promised, ours was special,
And contrary to every dictate of reason,
I had come to believe we had found it,
Love, here to stay, bright sun, morning after morning,
Endless awakening, fresh flowers everyday,
A bed with gorgeous sheets and pillows fluffed,
Despite love, it being only a feeling,
Like the youth, we at one time owned, and
Had been our possession, it drifts away.
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YOUNG LOVE, It Drifts Away, Editedby StanleyPacion177 views
Dear sir,
You have really turned out to be a friend, indeed! I have never really noticed the impact of European cinema upon my lyric, but of course it is there. Funny how difficult it is to see one's self and the influences of time and place upon an individual person. You might also notice that I am heavily indebted to Roman literature, Lucretius, especially the philosophical avenue, and Catullus, ,
maybe one of the greatest love poets of all time, You know me I must continue on the reply.
StanleyPacion 2 years ago
I really enjoyed this. was very much like an interesting european screenplay, poetry without much rhyme. speaking of which - upon your recomendation i managed to get 'through a glass darkly' and look 4ward to watching it tommorow night, will give slight review
Nicatroubadour 2 years ago
Pg. 2 The romantics are also a group from whom I borrow heavily, Keats and Wordsworth. But Shakespeare and his verse, namely the dialogues or monologues of his plays, also, are always in mind. I was brought up on Gospel, King James version, and its cadences, especially the Jesus of Matthew , Mark and Luke, still ring in my ears, but Genesis and Job, and Issaih, they are all models. Thanks again for listning and your comments.
StanleyPacion 2 years ago
@Nicatroubadour I had posted two replies to your comment on this poem. I wonder if you ever had seen them, because I had not posted these comments in the proper reply box.
StanleyPacion 10 months ago