All posts for the month March, 2013


Published March 21, 2013 by rlmcdermott

there is a wildness in flowers
that cannot be restrained

green goes to yellow
and what is lost returns
a thousand times a day

coneflowers will not obey
the rules and return as roses
in the middle of a sunny afternoon

melodies remembered
as one song return again
half forgotten half remembered

this is how I feel
where did we meet
so long ago
that I cannot forget

was I young
was I beautiful
was I full of hope

did you turn
around too quickly
leave too suddenly
stay too long
were we lovers
in a distant garden
talking of cherry blossoms
the weather
a favorite song

the flowers know their fate
they keep it to themselves
they linger by the roadside
and leave at dawn
I’ve stayed too long

I thought that I would
come again this spring
but death stepped in
and took someone too young
it wasn’t me
I stayed behind
I grieve for him

and this is what I know of life
it’s all we have
the good
the bad
are all the same

we’ll meet again
it is our fate
and like the cherry blossom tree
we’ll shed our memories
to love once more
to speak to strangers
on a sunny day
to smile to pause
and then to walk awayWildflowers

Eurydice’s Complaint

Published March 13, 2013 by rlmcdermott

I ask for gray;
he gives me blue.
I ask for light;
he gives me night.

A willful god,
my god he is;
this god
who all the gods resist.

I write him poems;
he writes me songs.
I am his lyre;
he does me wrong.

I cannot stop
this love I feel
it turns my heart into a wheel.

I turn and turn
and only see
that turning brings me
back to me.

What kind of love
is this that stings
and brings me
to this narrow road?

We climb and climb
and never see
an ending to this misery.

He looks ahead
and I am found.
He looks behind
and I am gone.

We are a paradox
this man and me–
a story,
a myth,
a mystery.

A Sailor’s Fate (For SJ)

Published March 8, 2013 by rlmcdermott

shoes by the door
a red cap hung
on a coat rack
a giant’s jersey
a man’s ring
a loved painting
we are nothing
but gestures in
these moments–
what does grieving
have to do with death

the moon
the cherry blossom
the blue wisteria
cannot stop the bird’s fall
everything goes to ground
and we are weeping
in the middle of a bright afternoon
taking pictures of ourselves
to remember we are still alive

we leave
the people
we love
in the places
where they lived
and say goodbye
to red-haired boys
as gray battleships
come in from memory
and we bury
our love at seaSJ Mac