A Brief Note To A Poet Long Dead


And all of the fair hills that know you,
Wayfarer, are known to me as well.

     Friedrich Holderlin, "The Nekar"




Intricate lacework of stars unraveling

As the first yellowing light begins to fill

The hollow crease between two low hills,

The rusty russet boughs of a dying pine

Where a squirrel is scattering dry needles.


Herr Holderlin, you said we must always

Write that 'one more poem,'  but by then

You were insane, and now one more night

Has passed with nothing to be said for it,

Nor, it seems, anything to be said for us.


The light coming on, though, says more

In silence than we ever had words for;

The squirrel is certainly more rational

Than we ever were; and that dying pine -

Ah Friedrich, that's our one more poem.

Poetry by countryfog
Read 545 times
Written on 2015-08-06 at 17:59

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
So very nice. There is always one more poem in us and yours are always a pleasure to read.

I've read Holderin many times--in fact there are a lot of German poets I really like. It's sad how so many poets died early or went insane. Brilliant poets like Harte Crane and Sylvia Plath, Trakl--we'll hear no more from them. So it's surely important to write one more poem--a hundred more if we're lucky.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Nicely done, Fog. Yes, I'd say that there's some poetry in the sight of a threadbare pine against the predawn light.

Åsa Andersson

I always look forward to one more poem from you. Thank you!