Friday, May 22, 2009

Sunday Scribbling #164: Worry

Once

Fretter-nales Falls imbibes
The breath of endless memories,
Cascade of daze gone by,
Frivolous dissertations of
The dirt beneath your feet
As they quibble over
The times not fested
The games not played
The wisdom never buried
In the bones. Carry this to your grave,
It says: You were heron once,
Your glory faded, the genes of
Your dissipation, after the
Call of a wild beyond
Your wildest dreams,
Buried with the key
That resounds in your ear, smothers
Your hair, invites your
Deepest worry: the end of all
Worries next to the nothing
Of your final breath, the
Epithalamion of your newest day—

19 Comments:

Blogger MichaelO said...

More orchid words that lead me to Wiki! Epithalamion, a bridal poem of your newest day. Your birth into the afterlife. Amazing stuff, Paschal. You leave me full of wonder and imagination. What is a life without worry, but no life at all? Beautiful poem.

10:27 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Brother Miguel: Welcome to the hothouse or, Vonnegut-wise, the monkey house. It's good to have you digging in the garden.

2:13 PM  
Blogger Weronika said...

Wow. This was fabulous. I agree with Michael--you offer a lot of insightful and wonderful perspective.

Keep penning and have a fabulous weekend.

http://flowersnbuttons.blogspot.com/2009/05/sunday-scribblings-164-worry.html

5:33 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Weronika: Welcome and thank you. Thank the resident muse for whatever insight comes through: I'm the messenger.

6:24 PM  
Blogger alister said...

You make me smile into a grin, dearest Mr. B. You and LDM. You with your insight, your brilliance, brilliant words. You with your heron and I with my raven and that tough little girl with her amazing conceding. It’s all sparking memories of talent buried, now uncovered, not a moment too late or too soon. Even next to the nothing of the breath I never expect to be final, I’m not worried, for these days hanging out with you guys are some of the best days known : )
Miss A

12:27 AM  
Blogger AD said...

ah and your insights never fail to impress me :)

Happy SS

http://whenhekissesher.wordpress.com/2009/05/22/i-worry-for-her/

2:12 AM  
Blogger Marja said...

What an astonishing poem I rather worry than at the end of it though

5:38 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Muchness: You know, of course, that the Avalanche draws nigh. Or, to use another metaphor, Mt. Baker ain't no dormant volcano. We're already feelin' the tremors.

7:19 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thank you, AD. This one seemed closer to the bone than most.

7:20 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thank you, Marja: not to worry: the muse will go where she wishes...

7:22 AM  
Blogger Devil Mood said...

Hmm...why do we worry about the inevitable? To be honest, I worry a lot more about what I still expect to avoid at all costs, but this kind of practical worry sounds a lot less dignified than the Big Worry in your poem.

5:33 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

DM: Strange as it sounds, this was actually a playful poem, thrown down in about 90 seconds before the arrival of the next set of kids through the classroom door, so let's say there were two practical worries: the next line and can I finish this before the bell?

5:44 PM  
Blogger anno said...

So much grace here, always. Must have been a whirlwind dance you had with the muse before that final bell rang.

9:13 PM  
Blogger Tammie Lee said...

wonderful wonderful
why fret
all we have is now
and now is mighty and alive
choose again and again!
Wonderful write mister B.
ok so I have a glass of wine in me~

11:34 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Anno: She was definitely a dervish, this muse. New profile picture, I see: spring has sprung.

6:31 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Well, Miz TLee, the wine may have loosed you, but so have sky, pond, woodland fungi, and the Eternal Now of Glacier National...

6:34 AM  
Blogger Dee Martin said...

This one sent me to wikipedia too - I love the cascade of daze gone by. Not just playful but a little mystical too:)

9:32 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thanks for visiting again, Ms. Dee. Mystical is playful, no?

12:59 PM  
Blogger floreta said...

this is an excellent piece.
you were heron once..
delectable words and rhythm

11:12 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home