All the help I can get, please.

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All the help I can get, please.

Post  Dewell H. Byrd on Thu Jul 26, 2012 9:48 pm

Death of a close friend leaves my thoughts a bit scattered. His widow and family would cherish a tribute poem from me. Dewell

AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND

(Don Bellairs)

I squint at your horizon,

watch the sun sift through you,

wonder if I'm next.



These are your molten hours;

weighted down by cold clay.

Ghosts loose your name

among the statues of yesterday.



I look down the green sweep of time

to the river of your life;

wild in winter, sprite in spring

withered in stagnant September.



Calm spreads like milk through hunger

in your silent night.



I pray you the appetite for one last spin,

one last deep-belly laugh that lets

your waters flow beyond the green.



-Dewell H. Byrd

de2byrds@aol.com

Dewell H. Byrd

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A couple things happen to me

Post  tsukany on Fri Jul 27, 2012 8:14 am

Dewell (sorry for your loss)

Forgive me for the reformat of your poem. I get lost in a couple images... (one in the first stanza and one in the last (centering attention to the word "green."))


AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND

(Don Bellairs)

I look down the green sweep of time (I love this section!)
to the river of your life;
wild in winter, sprite in spring
withered in stagnant September.

I squint at your horizon,
watch the sun sift through you, (I get lost here with "you"..horizon? friend?)
wonder if I'm next.

I pray you the appetite for one last spin, ("you" again trips me up)
one last deep-belly laugh that lets
your waters flow beyond the green.

-Dewell H. Byrd
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tsukany

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I'm wondering if I get it. . .

Post  Pat on Sat Jul 28, 2012 1:58 pm

Dewell, doublecheck you and your. I think the would serve better at times. Are we talking his end? That's how I took it. Sun sifting through him? Not sure what this means. . . are you thumbing through the pages of his life? Then you shift to yourself. Not needed really if the focus is on him.

Green rivers of your life. Okay, I can go with this image. Very poetic and image-beautiful.

The short stanza about calm brings it back to you. I'd let it be about him.

Then you have a wish for him. . . nice closure.

Todd's reordering your poem helps clarify it, I think.

Sometimes I think we just start somewhere to get it going. Then, we get to the real stuff. I do this too. Then, it's hard for me to see it. . . . and hard to give up. Pat

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Re: All the help I can get, please.

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