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Literally Speaking
by Ken HarnischAsked what it is I learned, I reply
That Sydney Carton, though romantic
And self-sacrificing, was a chump.
And losing your life so another man
Could live his with the woman you
Loved, while uniquely noble, was
Pointless.
But the rub is, you need
The bravely tragic to make
A life greater than the sum of its parts.
Otherwise, If
I just wanted to be a cynic
I could wallow in my old
Photograph albums and see the images
Of ghosts and other twisted lives
Made sadder by their duplicity
And smaller by their banality
I sometimes wonder
Who among my friends rose to
Heights greater than himself.
Warren has a nomination
Though in the end he was more Don Quixote
Than Dickensian.
And Stan, like me, was a thespian
Who at least once
Chased butterflies
And fell down doing it,
Skinning his heart
We all went on to lives domesticated
By responsibility and dried up
In its pursuit. Sometimes Stan and I
Raise a glass and talk about the old days
At times, I sit here under this thin stream of margarine light
And write doggerel about a wounded heart
And Warren?
He still walks like a ghost through
The old times
And wonders why
He can’t win now what he never
Did then.
Yes, he’s my candidate
For Sydney’s mantle
Though he was never the kind
To volunteer a climb to the guillotine.
01/29/2009 Posted on 01/30/2009
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Melissa Arel on 01/30/09 at 03:50 AM A very reflective & sorta sad poem. Everyone has the "what ifs" creep upon them from time to time.. thoughts of memories & long ago. This definitely makes me want to live a life of no regrets. A very poignant piece Ken. |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 02/01/09 at 03:59 PM WOW, Ken, when you get to thinking/writing, your depth and language and connection therein are startling and wonderous to behold, especially in that "stream of margarine light" you cast so well (an absolute fav line!)...another fav section: "Chased butterflies/ And fell down doing it,/ Skinning his heart"...your words in this piece reverb like nostalgic incantations for the memory's soul...a pleasure to read you again and again, peace, jewels |
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