If I was granted a wish,
it would be a visit with the wild ones,
a coyote, perhaps, or a fox,
or - especially - a black wolf, smiling
his brown-eyed smile.
I would tell him how many poems
I have written for him,
I would pick a bouquet of weeds
and wildflowers, to take home
in his memory.
A dreaming friend said he appeared
in her last dream. When she told him
I miss him, he threw back his head
and howled his lonely howl.
It seems a poet always winds up
singing the blues in her poem.
Why is it that
art is so often sad?
art is so often sad?
This tapped itself out from Shay's Word List prompt. I used eight of the words.
Perhaps because poetry requires an honest investment of heart. Thanks so much for being part of the revived List, dear friend.
ReplyDeleteAah because life is so often sad, my friend and the poet tries to hold a mirror to it, because what else will the poet do... reading your poem first thing this morning...it speaks to me...
ReplyDeleteYou made me miss your wolf along with you.
ReplyDeleteIt's why they used to call our temperament melancholy. There's joy in writing well about being sad.
ReplyDeleteNot much earlier this morning something brought back vivid memories of the time when I was falling in love with the man I've blogged about missing, mostly, all these years. Blogging took off about the time our life and work together was winding down, as we realized his Lyme Disease was going to be chronic and disabling. All these years I've blogged as a loyal, dutiful old friend and perhaps tried not to think too hard about when we were passionate Partners for Life. "I've never seen you look so happy, before or since," a friend said.
As we get older we all have to miss somebody, and I'm so glad, GLAD, I had the chance to miss him.
(If that doesn't make sense to you, there is a possibility that you're not Irish.)
PK
I am, indeed, Irish. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteYour black wolf knows .....
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me of what Tolstoy said about happy families, that they're all the same, "but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Sadness seems more unique to the individual, somehow, whether in truth it is or not the case for happiness as well. Lovely poem, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteSmiling at the wolf visitation - howling for his dearest friend. Art is often sad as it comes from the heart...it's real pieces of the journey - Truedessa
ReplyDeleteLovely words. Dream & reply too.
ReplyDeleteEmotional.
"With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near."
-P.B.Shelley
I love this so much Sherry, all the feelings, the dream, and the question at the end. Your poetry always resonates with me deeply my friend!
ReplyDeleteSo glad to see you back at The List!!
ReplyDelete