Thunderheads purple
Playing chess
at 30,000 feet
A snapshot
A life
A past
I do wonder
Who that guy was
Watching Thunderheads
Purple -- Playing
at 30,000 feet
Headphones on
Planning
Reading
White Heat
My Dear Love
at 30,000 feet
A private universe
three hours
maybe four
watching Thunderheads
playing chess
The Last Time
never
announces itself
so rude
Those Thunderheads
Majestic Mountains
Formations robust
of grey and white
and mauve
Opaque billow
Today, tomorrow
ten years from now
I will know
I saw what I will never see again
at 30,000 feet
Why it makes me sad
a mere memory
which today
seems so much more
a moment
not realized
Life
not lived
not but for the remembering
So I sit tonight
and what is now
is not what was
and what is to come
is not what I know
A sentimental fool
I will not deny
give me my agave
and give me my memories
at 30,000 feet
and Thunderheads purple
12 comments:
On a recent trip out West, I observed the most magnificent cloud formations, which quite literally looked like massive statues playing chess. I might never make that flight again, something, at the time, I could have never known. But the memory, oh my, those majestic formations, a sight I've never seen before and perhaps will never see again.
White Heat refers to the book I was reading about the literary love of my life, Emily Dickinson.
For those that can make not sense of my poetic fumbling, take heart, this was written with a few Sunrises in mah bellie. :-D
Ah, the wonder of nature. How magnificent Earth really is. I remember how awestruck I was when I visited Alaska.
Perfect title!
Thanks Deb. I was on my way to Tucson when I saw these. Only appropriate you have the first comment. :-)
"So I sit tonight
and what is now
is not what was
and what is to come
is not what I know"
I am in AWE. If I were to put that quote on my sidebar for a bit would you mind? I would hang it on my fridge but I know how you feel about a cluttered fridge :)
Smile Tree. It's like sticking your finger in life's eye when you smile anyway. And I am hoping the smile comes quite naturally because life is so good.
Hugs and Prayers.
Jen I would be honored to have you put that stanza on your blog and consider your request to be a smile inducing compliment. Thank you. :-)
And thanks for the hugs and prayers. I'm still taking orders for both. ;-)
*sheepish* Done!
I couldn't wait for permission. It's there and linked back to the entire poem.
I will gladly lend you my support through hugs and prayers but most especially the prayers.
You know prayer is like this amazing unseen gift - like a grandparent buying bonds or paying a PAC plan. The grandchild can't see the gift, is not even aware of it because it doesn't have wheels and sirens and flashing lights. But when they come to that point of needing something more important than bells and whistles, and that mature bond or PAC plan is there, providing a way to their dreams, then the grandchild has (oh hopefully) that aha moment.
All of that to say...
I hope that when these prayers reach maturity you have an aha moment.
Jen, I know not what to say but Thank You. Every note, every word, every hug and smile and prayer makes a difference. Thanks for being a difference maker. That's what you are. Just so you know. :-)
In your poem first and foremost (for also alluded to is it in your comment) you have captured a singular mood, sentiment, defined within, not so easy to re-word, nostalgia part of it, but when you write, so eloquently
Why it makes me sad
a mere memory
which today
seems so much more
a moment
not realized
Life
not lived
not but for the remembering nothing more needs be said, in those few lines there is such denotation, a moment not realized, so often this is the case, significance magnified by later events, and I just love the line that reads The Last Time
never
announces itself, so true and so known, realized universally at varying stages, in short and in repetition, with these words, you are wed, as is your practise, able to relate the core without the slightest hint of excess or the superfluous, showing in a manner that is both astoundingly inventive and likewise astoundingly direct, you really just have a tremendous talent for saying what you want to say in the clearest, truest and simplest (direct) of ways. The sight you saw is awe-inspiring on the page, so what it must have been like to witness, one can only imagine. I abso*lutely love this poem, which is really all that I really wanted to say. Love the style, love the method, the reason, it all.
This is a wistful poem, written not to write, not of something abstract, but a poem written in the gentle sway of memory, the waves of current events rocking my boat, of a career that may be over, of flights to Phoenix that may never happen again, as this last flight did. So I am sitting in my office, having a drink or two, listening to music and reflecting on the terminations of the day, of good friends heading home without jobs, of relationships almost a decade old and I think of that flight, of the ignorant bliss of the storm to come and I write just the first two words--Thunderheads Purple--and the intent is not to write a poem, but just those two words, to hold them in my mind as one holds hard candy on the tongue, to sip my rather strong Sunrise and just play with that memory and wonder if that was it, if that was the last time and that if it was, then I could not imagine a more spectacular sight to end a chapter, to close a door, to turn out the lights.
As always, your kind words mean more to me than you know. Thank you.
"Today, tomorrow
ten years from now
I will know
I saw what I will never see again"
Reading this poem again tonight. It's still my favorite.
Jen, I am moved that you are so moved by this poem. Believe it or not, that was the last time I've been on an airplane. I can't say I miss airports, although I always seemed to be inspired on those flights.
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