To Once Have Been Immortal
A mountain swollen with the impudence
of jaunty youth, unfazed by plodding Time,
aspires to lofty realms of Providence
as blight and battle interrupt the rhyme
of living Earth. And that was I, a life
ago, oblivious to wisdom, drowned
by notions of a timeless grandeur rife
with dash and derring-do amidst the sound
of trumpets, rising up triumphantly,
a virgin peak above the bristlecone.
But now, with flesh and spirit withery
and aching, I forsake my lofty throne
and crumble like the quaking, fractured ground
from which I wakened, and to which I’m bound.
Where You Sang To Me
The brooding waves are slapping, lashing, lathering
the oily stubble on the seawall, mossy green
and slick and sinuous, like serpents gathering
from secretive Plutonic depths in some obscene
conspiracy of caterwauling predators
regaling in the devious simplicity
of their disguise. And this is where the troubadours
were lured to you, before a curtain silvery,
a stage of ocean tide. They gazed in ecstasy
upon your face, a white celestial ornament.
Their reeds and mandolins were raised in quivery
appeals to steal away your silken instrument.
But now you’re gone. And now a brackish probing tongue
consumes the rocky sweetness where your words were sung.
Paul Buchheit is an author of books, poems, progressive essays, and scientific journal articles. He recently completed his first historical novel, 1871: Rivers on Fire. His poetry has appeared in The Lyric, Illinois State Poetry Society, Poets & Patrons of Chicagoland, Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest, Society of Classical Poets, and other publications.
Paul, both poems were entrancing for their sensitive treatment of aging in the first poem and eventual loss of beauty over time in the second one. As youth, we often feel immortal as though time will not touch and change us. The sadness of seeing a place that once was beautiful but now has changed (much like we have in aging) leads one to melancholy remembering our own places that have been degraded over time.
Thanks, Roy. Yes, it’s good to feel melancholy once in awhile — but not for too long!
Now that I’m officially old, I really appreciate To Once Have Been Immortal. As those Canadian poets from Rush sang in their under-appreciated song Dreamline, “we’re only immortal for a limited time”.
Warren, thanks for your response!
Warren, thanks for your response.
Change and disappointment, encountered by all of us mortals, are here illustrated with some rich imagery. Your poems are sad but at the same time bring an aesthetic satisfaction to the reader. I suppose we simply enjoy hearing language used creatively and vividly.
Thanks, Bhikkhu.
I love the lush language you’ve used, Paul – and especially that wonderful ‘withery’ word. ‘To Once Have Been Immortal’ speaks to me… I am winding down those withery pathways of life and it’s a tough journey. ‘Where You Sang To Me’ sings to me. I feel the seduction of those sirens between the mellifluous lines. I particularly like the sibilant “stubble on the seawall, mossy green / and slick and sinuous’ – I hear the hiss of the serpents. Most enjoyable! Thank you!
Thanks so much, Susan!
I guess you have a ready audience here for To Once Have Been Immortal, Paul, self included. ‘Withery and aching’? I’m certainly getting there.
You paint a vivid picture in Whre You Sang to Me. ‘Secretive Plutonic depths’ is inspired.
Thanks for the read.
Thanks for your kind words, Paul.
Paul, the description of “Where You Sang to Me” should be called “fresh” despite your overall tone of tragic melancholy. The hexameter lines suit the tone and topic. “To Once Have Been Immortal” is splendid construction on a similar theme. Its three sentences masterfully mimic an ordinary speaking voice to turn into a sonnet of epic proportions. The couplet rhyme sound isn’t new to conclude, but borrowed to echo “drowned” and “sound” above. This well emphasizes the message of the whole.
I recently posted an appreciation of both your poems, Paul, and hope this remark will help release it from cyberspace into this array of comments.
Paul, it seems my previous substantive comment is lost, so I will reproduce some of it here. Especially, I’ll say how some of your artistic choices reinforce the depth of feeling in both poems. The lengthier, hexameter lines suit the tragic melancholy of “Where You Sang to Me.” “To Once Have Been Immortal” offers masterful structure, with its three sentences imitating ordinary speech, while developing logic into a splendid sonnet. It ends with a nice sonic touch, when the couplet rhyme sound is not a new one, but echoes “drowned” and “sound” used earlier. This corresponds well to the theme of youthful pride downcast. I much admire the exquisite choices of word and image that make up the poem.
Margaret, thanks for your fantastic review of my poems. Much appreciated!
Margaret, thanks for your fantastic review of my poems. Much appreciated!
Two better sonnets I have not read in a long time, and I was happy to see an alexandrine sonnet, the likes of which I haven’t written in many years. It’s sometimes amazing what you can do with an extra foot in every line. These poems are dancing at the edge of phenomena/noumena, and I wish they came dipped in chocolate.