The Day Flies Off Without Me -- John Stammers

Guest poem sent in by Hemant Mohapatra

(Poem #1960) The Day Flies Off Without Me The planes bound for all points everywhere etch lines on my office window. From the top floor London recedes in all directions, and beyond: the world with its teeming hearts. I am still, you move, I am a point of reference on a map; I am at zero meridian as you consume the longitudes. The pact we made to read our farewells exactly at two in the afternoon with you in the air holds me like a heavy winter coat. Your unopened letter is in my pocket, beating. -- John Stammers

I love the quiet strength of this powerful piece. It speaks volumes about an
unrequited love in a way that is neither sappy, nor reflective. It just "is"
and seems to convey "This is how it is, and that is so". Every once in a
while, a poet creates something so heartfelt that all his/her other poems
pale in comparison. This is one of those pieces. 'nuff said.

Hemant

[Links]

Biography:
  [broken link] http://uk.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=6964

Finding a Long Gray Hair -- Jane Kenyon

Guest poem submitted by Hemant Mohapatra:

(Poem #1004) Finding a Long Gray Hair I scrub the long floorboards in the kitchen, repeating the motions of other women who have lived in this house. And when I find a long gray hair floating in the pail, I feel my life added to theirs. -- Jane Kenyon

The first thing that struck me about this piece was the title. It held so
much more than what was apparent at first look. Memories, emotions,
sadness... The touching simplicity of the poem and the matter-of-fact way a
daily chore has been discussed and an ensuing thought process followed is
amazing. Being a regular trekker I usually encounter quite a few memoirs of
the past - sometimes an old dilapidated abandoned fort or a temple of ages
ago in the deep forest and some other times rocks that bear the marks of the
times they've been through. Each pebble has a story to tell and if you are
patient enough you eventually manage to get it out of them. Touching those
stones, you can easily feel that you are not the only one to have done that.
You know that once life had flourished where there's nothing more than
wilderness now. Sometimes it scares you - the fact that you are not alone
where you stand at the moment - but nevertheless, connecting to the past has
always been a humbling experience for me. Sometimes a piece of old rock can
teach you more about life than a dozen philosophers. Sometimes a single gray
hair can be the part of a thread of the most remarkable story you'd ever
come across.

Hemant.

[Biographical notes]

Jane Kenyon (1947-1995) was a well-known contemporary American writer. Born
in Ann Arbor, Michigan, she published four collections of poetry and a
translation of the Russian poet Anna Akhmatova before her untimely death
from leukemia in 1995. She was the recipient of numerous awards for her
poetry, including a Guggenheim Fellowship and the PEN Voelcker Award. She
was featured with her husband, poet Donald Hall, on the Emmy-Award winning
Bill Moyers special, "A Life Together."

[Minstrels link]

Poem #474, Otherwise  -- Jane Kenyon