Monday, January 3, 2011

Jeanne's poetry bus.



Not just for auld lang syne


Don’t talk,

whatever you say-

say nothing.

The snakebitten poison of past,

a bone-eating cancer.


That past is still what it used to be,

the past made us,but

it does not rule us.

Past tense,

future bright.


Forget love, forget hate, forget past,

that’s another country

We must be go-aheads

No longer go-betweens

for loss and disruption

the veins of communication

the shot-up messenger

bearing false comforting plenitude.


We can sing a new way,

sing tomorrow’s song, today,

your hand in my hand,

for the future,

for this New Year,

for hope in your mind

and in mine,

for the promise of this newborn year,

no longer just singing by rote

for the sake of auld lang syne.

11 comments:

The Bug said...

TFE and hope for the future - this is a banner day! And a really great poem!

Jeanne Iris said...

'Go-aheads,' yes! Also, I love the lines, "past tense/ future bright." Brilliant as usual, oh Fearless Leader!
Happy New Year!

Jeanne Iris said...

Oh, and I love the new symmetrical photography!

Helen said...

One of my all time favorites!!!
Happy New Year.

KING OF THE CAMELS said...

ohh!argg!

Peter Goulding said...

I'll raise a cup of kindness for those sentiments. Go boldly forth...

Niamh B said...

great, unsentimental and all the better for it.

Titus said...

What a piece of work is man! Impressive, inspiring and I picked on the same bit as the driver herself,

Past tense,
future bright.

I'll try...

Argent said...

The past made us but doesn't rule us! There should be tee shirts with this on!

Rate of Dissent said...

I like that poem.

Mairi said...

I like the way the first three lines set up the speaker's ambivalence about the new year/future -Don't talk, whatever you say- say nothing - and the way his attitude shifts through the poem. He begins, against his own advice, by dwelling on the past. Snake bitten- bone eating plays nicely on the ear. By the end he has moved himself and us into the future and the new beginning promised in "newborn," which borrows resonance from the Christmas story, without ever mentioning it. Nicely done.
Thanks for stopping by Secret Poems.