.
He was the stream and she the underbrush;
The rain that fell upon his upturned face.
She was the shadowed glade in evening’s hush
That memorized the sun, received its grace.
She was the sea, and he the wavering shore;
Sometimes she was a fragile bit of lace,
He was the harvest moon above her door,
Creating out of shadows an embrace.
But then, shadows of their closeness clashed—
For beauteous as they were they could not stand—
Once all poetic similes had smashed
He shouted; she withdrew, crawled up the sand.
The moon went dark, winds rose, high waves were lashed
Against their crystal edifice, which crashed.
.
.
A former Wilbur Fellow and six-time Pushcart nominee, Sally Cook is a regular contributor to National Review, and has appeared in venues as varied as Chronicles, Lighten Up On Line, and TRINACRIA. Also a painter, her present works in the style known as Magic Realism are represented in national collections such as the N.S.D.A.R. Museum in Washington, D.C. and The Burchfield-Penney, Buffalo, NY.
This is haunting, Sally. I was moved to read it three times. I particularly love the line “Creating out of shadows an embrace.” Thanks for sharing this sterling poem.
Dear Russell –
Haunting is certainly the right word. The first few lines did that to me for the better part of a year ! Thank you for your words of appreciation !
I agree with Mr. Winick – a beautiful poem
filled with lovely images described in fresh
ways. This is my favorite phrase, “That memorized
the sun, received its grace.” but I liked them all.
It means so much to hear this encouragement coming from friends at SCP Thank you!
Absolutely mind-blowing in its pure, literate, and well-woven perfection. And the multiple levels of meaning: it could mean something mythological (any star-crossed lovers theme out of Ovid), or something personal (the end of an affair), or even something like an abstract comment on aesthetic principles (“poetic similes” and “crystal edifice” smashing and crashing). Top-notch work.
Dear Joe —
I am truly blessed to have a friend and mentor such as you. Your honesty is something I treasure.
So many lovely “poetic similes” here! It’s all beautiful!
Dear Cynthia —
Your comments are always considered, and so I am glad to receive such a positive one from you. Thanks !
Interesting imagery and clever and unexpected juxtapositions of adjectives with nouns that make nothing obvious and demand input from the reader’s imagination to wrest his ownmeaning from them, as in “wavering shore” and “crystal edifice.”
Peter, I like the way you think.You have a subtle and discerning mind, and aren’t afraid to use it! Thank you for your comments !
Very beautiful, Sally – what a truly marvelous voice you have!
So glad you chose to be
With us at SCP.
Your style’s unique,
And what you seek
It what we wsnt to see.
Thank you so much.
Sally, I have been re-reading this all day. A wonderful piece that will be around long after we’ve all checked out. Poetry at its most eloquent. Thank you.
Jeff –
Isn’t that what we all strive for? You have given me wonderful encouragement.
Dear Sally, this beautiful poem had me drawn in by the title (it frames the work perfectly) and swept up in the lush imagery and rich and resonating onomatopoeic language until the closing line. I admire the sensual, ephemeral, and ethereal spirit of the first stanza and the sonorous sadness of the second. The shift in mood is striking, and I love the lines: “Creating out of shadows an embrace./But then, shadows of their closeness clashed—” which separate the first and second stanza. This thought-provoking and masterly poem is an instant firm favorite. Thank you!
Dear Susan J. B. —
The careful analysis you have given my poem means so mch coming from someone as accomplished as you. I hung on to the first two stanzas for months; until my head cleared and I was finally able to work on it. For the little I had of it at that point no longer shocked me.For to tell the truth, at that point this poem shocked me.
Now, months later, I’ve accepted it as a great leap forward. Thanks, Susan, for believing in my work.
Your poems are often mysterious, Sally, but this one is especially mysterious. After all is said and done, this poem might be the one for which you are best remembered. Unless, that is, you continue your upward gyre.
The entire poem is clearly structured, yet successive images leave a great deal to the reader’s interpretation (as Peter Hartley said). The two parts have both contrast and similarity. Together, they make a superb story that reminds me of Poe. To check my perception, I just looked at many of his shorter poems, and although I can’t name one as particularly close to this, I think you are using an artistic process similar to his. He was certainly a master of shock, and you have deftly orchestrated turmoil to accomplish the same.
Perhaps you are thinking of “Annabel Lee,” one of Poe’s most plangent and tragic pieces. It begins with idyllic love, and ends in death.
Dear Margaret —
Well I did have the first half of the poem tucked away for months; liked it but it simply would not reveal how it must end. After several more recent readings, however, I sensed it would inevitably end in conflict.
So many times, one senses what should happen, but not until the “curing” process is complete can we know.
I think there is a universal process of completion of so much of what we attempt in life. This may be what Joseph Saismi ia thinking of when he refers to “Annabel Lee”.
I believe that both Stephen Foster and Poe lived on the Bowery when they were in mid- 19th century New York. When I lived in a loft on the Bowery in mid-20th century New Yori, there were loifts that were virtually unchanged except for indoor plumbing. Fireplaces were still operartive.We had decorative tin ceilings and a toilet. We added a small gas range, and sanded and stained the floors. But still, at nigh, I could still hear faint notes of banjo music, and sometimes the scratch of Poe’s dip-in pen.
The rent was cheap, and after someone called the fire departmentment because they saw our chimneys smoking, we learned to only burn wood during daylight hours.
But fragments of that process still remained, as they always do, whether or not we believe in it.
So you do have a Poe connection from living in the Bowery! Although some of the touches in “An Interlude” would suit “Annabel Lee,” they correspond in a general way to the atmosphere in many of Poe’s works. That’s what I found when looking over the shorter poems. It’s not that you, Sally, allude to anything of Poe’s–you’re just doing some scratching with a dip-in pen. Maybe you needed to wait for the affinity to take hold before this fine poem of yours got fully cured. Fragments of the process, as you say!
What you say is so true, Margaret. Some experiences are so universal they take on a timeless atmosphere, and hang around areas on clouds.
At this point I usually get arguments from those more rational people who think calling something “evocative” or “mysterious” is
equivalent to a put down. But we know it is not. I have had some incredible experiences, all of which expanded my mind,l had nothing to do with drugs or alcholol,
I would have missed had my mind worked that way. It is probably why my computer hates me !
I feel that these experiences are akin to the great Oriental schools, and also to minds of some plants and small animals.
As an example, I have been privileged to hear a toad sing.
How can that a bad thing?
I am nowhere near practical,and frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.