Of Clay, Maybe Wattles

 Of Clay, Maybe Wattles

Some now, one of us will arise and go,
our doughy flesh like paper grown,
rattling before the window’s close,
though the other tries to keep a hold.

But one will have risen, will have gone,
the one behind left holding moan;
might as well corral the moon, the sun,
to stop their rise, their arc’s move on.

In the between we lay us down
where moths tag panes with tapping sounds,
each wing a chip of night that’s found
some light it longs to make its own,

as you are mine and I am yours,
our skins tucked close against the fears,
one’s glow lassoed by the other’s light,
our darknesses clasped, oh so tight.

Here’s a drafty poem written thinking of Yeats’ The Lake Isle of Innisfree but going to a slightly different place,  posted for Real Toads open platform.

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10 Comments on “Of Clay, Maybe Wattles”

  1. Brendan Says:

    The inexorable tide of living to no longer caresses here, where figures now dream get up and leave the room while the living, the lovers, somehow yet remain, if only for this one more night. The moths at the window seem to bear the regret of the dead and the surrender of love somehow eclipsing its burden – “one’s glow lassoed by the other’s light, / our darknesses clasped, oh so tight.” Amen Karin.

  2. Kerry O'Connor Says:

    The Lake Isle of Innisfree is one of my favourite poems, discovered while at school and certainly one that began my lifelong passion for the genre.

    This is such a sensitive approach to the idea of loving and parting, perhaps through death. Important to hold on now while one has the other still.

  3. Jim Says:

    Thank you, K. I just now read the Yeats poem and I claim it. That is exactly the way I feel when Mrs. Jim is away for a day or longer, except that I can’t sleep well at home all alone. Every year at my birthday time I suggest that I might be running away. One year when I did it was to NYC at the invitation of our daughter, Karen. She was running the NYC Marathon and Mrs. Jim and I got to cheer her on six times with the help of the NYC subs and a nice walk from Harlem over to Central Park.
    I don’t know if and where I might go this year, October. Innisfree?
    Your verse tells of what a lot of us don’t think about much, at least I do not. Here is what, per my daughter told of my six-year-old granddaughter’s feelings upon learning of the dying of her friend and school’s namesake: “… news. (KP) knew he went to church with … She told me it was okay because he’s alive in Heaven right now. Just like (cousin) Gracie.”

    • ManicDdaily Says:

      Ha. Thank you, Jim, for your kind comment. The marathon can be a lot of fun! I have never run it–I think I would take two weeks–but I’ve also been there to cheer the runners on.

      Take care, k.

  4. Such a wonderful depiction of how true love is….this is beautiful!!

  5. Sherry Marr Says:

    A lovely poem. How wonderful to have such a companion. Sigh.

  6. Jim Says:

    Hi K ~~ I added a reply to your nice comment on my ‘ditty’ post, where you declined to spend much time with Twain’s verse so as to avoid picking up the earworm. The comment:
    “You were wise, K, to avoid studying the poem. At the end of his Punch, Brothers, Punch story, published in the “New York ———” back in the 1800’s and linked above, warned his readers.
    His warning:
    “… Why did I write this article? It was for a worthy, even a noble, purpose. It was to warn you, reader, if you should came across those merciless rhymes, to avoid them–avoid them as you would a pestilence.

    -THE END-
    Mark Twain |Samuel Clemens’ short story: Punch, Brothers, Punch”

  7. This poem tastes of goodbyes between souls very close… There is so much feeling before letting go, so much desire to continue holding on… The last lines, in particular, squeezes at the heart. The tone, the words, the images the stanza paints in the mind… leave me thinking of tears, of embraces, of the grief brought on by separation.

  8. There is so much to love about this, but this line really stands out to me. “as you are mine and I am yours,our skins tucked close against the fears” I can’t imagine this goodbye. It brings a well of tears.

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