For A Second I Forgot
Posted: Sun Aug 04, 2013 7:02 pm
Sometimes I feel a poem doesn't quite hit the mark. I work it and re-work it and often just let it go - put it out there. In it's original form this was a poem that started off as two separate poems which I then merged. I had at least 20 stanzas to choose from and experimented with changing them around and cutting up couplets. This revision of For A Second I Forgot, I think gets to the core of those "moments of being" to borrow Virginia Woolf's term for those odd mental absences where something is realised and disappears. I might change it again because there was a good line "I'm doing well without me", which I've omitted from this.
I've dug out a couple of poems from 1987 and have begun the process on them. One Camera Shy, I'll put on here when it feels good enough to go, or it becomes like flogging a dead horse. For now, here's the revised poem. You can find the original on my http://www.crackleanddrag.blogspot.com poetry blog.
For A Second I Forgot #2
I counted my achievements
there were not too many,
on dismal mornings such as this
I cannot think of any.
The ticking of the clock,
the centre of my drama,
for a second i forgot
its arbitrary measure.
For a second I forgot,
in the expanding minute
my burden might be heavy
but there is nothing in it.
For a second it's accepted
with complete concession
the contingent and connected
empty of all mission
For a second there resigned
all urge and aspiration,
no weight or value was assigned
no number or ambition.
For a second i forgot
and there was no resitence
for a moment I was locked
within the flow of all existence
I've dug out a couple of poems from 1987 and have begun the process on them. One Camera Shy, I'll put on here when it feels good enough to go, or it becomes like flogging a dead horse. For now, here's the revised poem. You can find the original on my http://www.crackleanddrag.blogspot.com poetry blog.
For A Second I Forgot #2
I counted my achievements
there were not too many,
on dismal mornings such as this
I cannot think of any.
The ticking of the clock,
the centre of my drama,
for a second i forgot
its arbitrary measure.
For a second I forgot,
in the expanding minute
my burden might be heavy
but there is nothing in it.
For a second it's accepted
with complete concession
the contingent and connected
empty of all mission
For a second there resigned
all urge and aspiration,
no weight or value was assigned
no number or ambition.
For a second i forgot
and there was no resitence
for a moment I was locked
within the flow of all existence