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THE CONCERT
“Look closely at your wife-to- be’s mother,
As she will look like that in in 40 years”
Said by my father
Yes, dad, that is in fact the case,
But what you didn’t say is
I would get old and look like you,
The same wrinkles by my chin,
The same arrogance in my grin.
Before you drifted into silence you said,
So monotone, “I am living in my memories."
Then the dementia won, the life force faded,
Like a flame waning from a once boisterous candle.
Your eyes were vacant but for tears
As the room filled with Strauss or Sinatra,
You could not tell me where you were.
Yet the music reached deep inside you,
And you would cry to Madam Butterfly;
When you slipped away, so feeble and vacant,
I could not mourn; I had been mourning for too long.
Years have passed, my face has changed,
I wear your watch, your tie, your golden chain;
I’m in the concert hall with Mahler and you,
And he’s blasting his fucking head off
With the ecstasy of the resurrection symphony;
And at last I feel a force brewing in my gut,
The chorus stands, the organ hails its thunder!
My body heaves a wail I didn’t know was in me,
And tears wash over the veins of my hands
With its thinning skin, wiping its sweet taste
From the face of sorrow I have so desired.
Last few words:
As many on Neopoet are sharing very intense personal poems, I thought I might offer one.
The opening quote is supposed to be in smaller font, in italics, and indented like a dedication.
It is not part of the poem.
I cannot figure out how to do that on this site. It is correct in preview, but when I press save it converts back...(help!)
Editing stage:
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Comments
Ali Zonach
Sat, 2017-06-10 08:03
Eumolpus,
a very intense poem, indeed.
I had the good fortune of NOT watching my father withering away; he came home from the war that had stressed his heart and died relatively young. Your quote made me smile. That's exactly what my father had said. My wife's mother was a crabby witch--not so my wife of 47 years. About aging: I don't really resemble my dad in appearance--hardly any wrinkles, lol, except that we shared the same love for classical music.
I like your reference to Mahler's Symph. #2, my favorite of all his works. Much enjoyed your poem that brought back memories. Thanks,
Ali
Geezer
Sat, 2017-06-10 12:19
I don't really...
resemble my father and he is gone many years now, but my mother, whom I do resemble is ninety now and she has withered as you put it. I am now sixty-nine and I see myself in her. Her mind is sharp, but the body is failing, as it must for everyone. Mine is failing too, from all the abuse I have put on it, so I really understand where you are coming from. this must resonate with anyone that is getting to the point where they can't do as they used to. Nice work. ~ Geezer.
.
There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.
Eumolpus
Sat, 2017-06-10 15:14
edit
Firstly thanks for the read and kind words. I'm of the same age at Geezer, my mother is 95, has all her mental faculties, but now a life of pain from arthritis. You do not die from pain, just suffer.
Ali, my wife's mom aged ok, and my wife still has a youthful glow...
I went to my poetry workshop today and some very good critics have had me edit the poem for a certain clarity, I think now it works a little bit better. I have tried more to connect my father to music, his passion in life which he passed on to me. Also made more clear what his last words spoken were, which preceded the silence that dementia causes.
Surely there is no music ever made that is louder than then that symphony (non electronic)-
full orchestra, chorus and soloists, organ, 10 extra horns, 5 drummers, chimes so big the percussionist has to climb a ladder... so if ever an explosion in your soul needs to come out, the conclusion of that symphony will do it! If you are not blasted away at that moment, you don't have a pulse. Anyway,it was that music which filled me at last with the great release of hidden grief for my father, who also loved that work.
Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings
author commentwesley snow
Sat, 2017-06-10 16:08
A very personal work.
It is hard to share what is true, is it not? I too love the piece, but fanfare has always been a favorite of mine. John Williams' original Superman theme is one I love.
My mother in law is ninety caring for her ninety five year old husband. An accident is in the making. To be so close to death and yet not achieve it must be frightening beyond anything I felt with my heart surgery. My wife is nearly seventy and still working horses.
Life is so strange. Your poem is spot on and moving.
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Ali Zonach
Sun, 2017-06-11 06:46
Such glorous din it all is,
concluded with the words, "Die shall I in order to live. Rise again, yes, rise again, will you, my heart, in an instant! That for which you suffered, to God will it lead you!" (And I'm by no means a religious man.)
Ali
Eumolpus
Sat, 2017-06-10 18:14
that is true
Malher wasn't particularity religious either, very "spiritual"..here's a great quote:
“Imagine the universe bursts into song. We hear no longer human voices, but those of planets and suns circling in their orbit…” Gustav Mahler, in a letter after completing the Sixth Symphony.
Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings
author commentfink555
Sat, 2017-06-10 18:27
This
is a brutally earnest poem, Eumolpus, and I am sorry for your loss.
Mahler, mortality and Alzeheimer's somehow mix in a very affecting way. And of course your writing about your face turning into his.
Scatterhatter
Sat, 2017-06-10 18:31
This is so moving. I cried.
This is so moving. I cried.
I don't how to comment. But I've learnt from this that sorrow can burst at anytime. A welcome relief knowing that it was there all along.
Thank you for sharing this personal experience.....
Eumolpus
Sat, 2017-06-10 23:13
Much thanks
For sharing and feeling my poem. My father and I are very moved :)
Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings
author commentjane210660
Sun, 2017-06-11 06:19
Beautiful and very moving
My father too loved Mahler and was moved by his music. Except towards the end of his life when generally nothing much moved him, except a fear of dying.
Before he became too ill to care, his words of wisdom to my other half were 'beware the chair'.
Wise words.
I have no crit to offer, apart from the fact it is extremely difficult to critique a work that has so much personal experience within (that goes for others too), it is extremely well written, so I can not suggest any means of improvement.
Thank you for this small window into your life.
Jx
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IRiz
Mon, 2017-11-27 09:27
Dear Eumolpus,
Dear Eumolpus,
Your works demonstrate undeniable taste, this particular one has a touch of genius.
IRiz
Eumolpus
Mon, 2017-11-27 19:52
what a humbling comment!
Thanks for your kind words, and looking back in my work to see this poem.
Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings
author commentIRiz
Mon, 2017-11-27 21:12
I am Russian by birth and
I am Russian by birth and education. I value words of praise perhaps too much. So if my words sounded humbling on the background of othr comments rich with exclamation marks and exhaltation I am sorry.
It was not my intention to humble you. But to tell you my true opinion. I am a scientist first, so I do not like most of the poems I read simply because they are meaningless or inconsistent or having too much over used worlds or boring or too complex or lack rhythm or this or that. Plus I have a short attention span and low tolerance to poems using words without precise purpose. Do you see how difficult to make me finish reading something? But your poem was an important event and it raised my pulse and I was sad and happy in the same time. Sad you know why and happy because I know that you will write more. Anyway I hope I did not humble you too much. Smiling hopefully, yours IR.
IRiz
Eumolpus
Wed, 2017-11-29 10:36
smiling yes
I'm third generation Russian (my grandparents came to Amerika at the turn of the century), my daughter in law is Russian and my grandkids speak Russian. I first visited there in 1971 as a student living in Paris. I envy that (I assume) you speak Russian and can read all those great Russian poets in the original.
After a while poetry becomes like a museum, or music channel...you know what you like or don't almost immediately. Yes it is hard to find that connection with a poet whom you don't feel is preaching cliches or words of wisdom to you that you already know, or don't care about. It's a very personal thing. The more we read the faster you form a fast opinion. But it is worth it when you are somehow drawn into a poem and know, while you are reading it, that the piece is deeply reaching you.
Professionally I an a facilitator of Pongo Poetry, a process to get people to open up to poetry. Most people I work with are in trauma, abused etc., and poetry opens up a world of catharsis and sharing. Their poems are not "great poems", but often are original, raw and honest. That is what I look for in the poets I read who study the craft.
I'm looking forward to reading your works too as you keep writing.
Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings
author commentIRiz
Wed, 2017-11-29 13:40
Thank you
Thank you
I relate to your words immensly.
If you want help translating some of the Russian poets let me know.
BTW Voznesensky is okay. But there so much more to Russian poetry.
IRiz
lovedly
Wed, 2017-11-29 02:29
marvelous retort Eumol
Yes, dad, that is in fact the case,
But what you didn’t say is
''I would get old
and look like you,(GENETICALLY WE ALL DO)
The same wrinkles
by my chin,
The same arrogance
in my grin.
THE EFFECT OF DNA
IS ALWAYS PERSISTENT
Great poem