poetry and poems - st jordis day_2

  

  

L O N E L I N E S S  

meaning number 1 in the poem   --    

At livingpoetry blog_

if you read everything between the parenthesis,

 you read "a leaf falls." 

The rest spells "oneliness."

 If you add the beginning "l" to the "oneliness

--that is,

 everything not in parenthesis--

you get "loneliness." 

This poem is heartbreaking. 

Upon first reading, I thought, how clever. 

 But the more I read it, the more it got to me. 

The form illustrates falling, motion, 

slimness, even termination. 

The lines are long--not just the poem as a whole, 

but the letters in the poem--so many l's and f's. 

Long, even fluid lines,

 all leading down. 

AND   my selected  POEM:   

For those of us who say to ourselves:We don't get   forgetfulness  

   text

Forgetfulness          

 by Billy Collins                      

The name of the author is the first to go followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of, 

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain, to a little fishing village where there are no phones. 

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag, and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps, the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay. 

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. 

It has floated away down a dark mythological river whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart. 

well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. 

No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.