I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

25 May 2015

The Edge of Dreaming River

You are leaving, he said to me,
and never again shall we see each other.
What am I going to do? And what
will you do, when we are far apart?

We sat at the edge of Dreaming River,
letting our bare legs dangle
in that green and rushing stream.
The clouds were swift, blown sideways.

I shall have my flask of green water
gathered from Dreaming River. I shall drink
drop by drop the memories of me and you,
and I shall not thirst, I said.












The clouds in the sky became
even frothier clouds in the river.
On the edge of the water, gripping
the grass tussocks, he saw this and swore.

I want to go too, he said. I want to go
far from here, as you can do —
but me, I'm eternally caught.
He glared at the clouds as they raced away.

I shall come back, I promised, after one year
and one day. Watch as the clouds pass over.
You will see me flying back to you. Only wait.
Meet me at the edge of Dreaming River.

But when I returned in a year and a day,
he never looked or saw. His gaze
was turned towards a laughing woman
who led him away from Dreaming River.

That edge, I heard her say, is dangerous.
One day, she said, you could fall
and be submerged in the green water.
She danced him away from the edge.

I am watching the clouds as they scud
sideways in front of the river wind. I am
dangling my legs in deep green water,
dreaming, at the edge of Lonely River.


Note: A fictional imagining, not autobiography!


The latest Play It Again at imaginary garden with real toads, asks us to revisit a previous challenge. I chose In Other Words from Jan. 15 2015, which asked poets to take a book title which already used words in unusual combination, and replace some words with others, also unexpected. I Turned The City of Dreaming Books into The Edge of Dreaming River

11 comments:

  1. nice write; the reality of Lonely river though was sad, made me feel like crying out on behalf of the watcher, stop come back

    have a nice Monday

    much love...

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  2. It did become the "Lonely River". This is a sad poem, Rosemary. You wrote it so nicely, compelling a response. I could have stopped at the end of verse three as at that point it was happy sad, a parting but full of hope and expectation.
    As they say, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." But sometimes that growth is one-sided.
    There comes a time in life when these things happen, I will hope not too fast for me. I do know that you are there now. Just keep on doing like you are though, we (bloggers) are at least second tier friends for you. We have love in our hearts for you, I do.
    BTW, I am slacking off blogging for a bit but will read when I can and even might post a little. It's like a compulsion with me. But we are going to travel, our distant High School Senior is graduating and we are moving too. Lots of travel and work coming up.
    ..

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    Replies
    1. Happy travelling! Will look forward to seeing your posts and comments when possible.

      (And don't worry, the story in this poem is a fictional imagining.)

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    2. I have made the note more noticeable now! :)

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  3. Your narrative is very tenderly told, and has an authenticity which is easy to relate to. I loved the descriptions (especially those in stanza 3) and the title is quite perfect.

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  4. This is so beautifully wrought. Until I read your note, at the end, I thought it might apply to someone leaving via the river of death. But I see this is not autobiography. It is a beautiful tale, wonderfully told....I especially love the clouds blown sideways, and the title and name, Dreaming River.

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  5. What a lovely story, filled with imagination and wonder.

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  6. You've crafted a beautiful story here...I love the deep green waters that surge through this.

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    Replies
    1. A friend on facebook had mentioned the Guadalupe, a river I fell in love with when visiting Texas nine years ago. I was struck by its turquoise-green colour. So it helped inspire the poem, although the poem is not meant to be about that or any real river. (The photo is actually of the Tweed River near where I live, which is only green — in places — by virtue of the reflections.)

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  7. Such a lovely title..Your poem speaks the language of water.

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  8. This is so dreamy. I love the visuals of green river :-)

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