THE SUN ALSO SETS

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Without a bedtime story or a lullabye
the evening’s blush sinks to a deeper red
then slips into a slit between the earth and sky
leaving our goodbyes lingering, unsaid.

I do not want to go, or let you go.
I want to dare this ending, call its bluff,
delay our parting with a sudden overflow
of words—too many and yet not enough–

while you, my dearest one, would choose
blunt disappearance, the mute way
to stanch an agony—those deeper blues
along the skyline fire—as if to say

the sun rises, the sun also sets.
So let it set. Let us let it. Let’s.
.
.
THE SUN ALSO SETS

41 responses »

  1. I love hearing you read your poems! Thank you for this additional gift! makes me feel close, which I need today from this retreat of mine. This exquisite poem brings to to my theme….”i do not want to go…” thank you, Cyn!

    • To go on retreat to a warm place during this particular season is something I have always thought I would like to do…..I look forward to hearing about it.
      By the way…you mentioned that you gave a copy of my book to a poet, as a birthday gift…..who is that poet? And if you “read a poem” on that occasion, was it “An Occasional Poem”(p.97)?
      Thanks so much, Julie.
      A bientΓ΄t….

  2. How greatly I should like to be able to write lines like yours … to write thoughts and memories so beautifully as to render them irresistible …
    XO
    We are friends – quondam et futurusque.

    • That we are….

      ….and have a shared understanding: “quos amor verus tenuit tenebit” –“those whom true love has held, it will go on holding.”—Seneca

      (One bit of Latin deserves another, n’est-ce pas?) πŸ™‚

    • Yes, there is much to think about, these days of transitions we all face, and thinking is not something that can be turned on and off, like a machine….so, let it be, look at it, it is ever changing…Much love and good wishes are the “thinking” that I send your way, {{{Ina}}} ❀

  3. *Deep sigh* at the beauty of this writing Cynthia. What a treat to return to WordPress after Xmas and see this poem. And listening to it brings it lo life for me. It is so real.

    I love the Seneca quote; I only just came across him a few years ago when studying a university foundation course year in The Humanities. And I did well too – shame I ducked the rest of it due to a massive fear of failure. And now I dont reel inclined to do any formal study at all. 😊. I also wish I had concentrated on Latin while at school! Amo. amas amat… πŸ˜„

    • I’m not much of a Latin scholar myself, though I did tutor a couple of my younger brothers when they were studying to become altar boys for the old Latin rite of the Mass! I loved foreign languages, but preferred the living to the dead ones.

      I like that you say you find this poem real. The sonnet so belongs to great poets of the past, that I have asked myself why I return to it time and again…it has something to do with the way limits have the power to liberate ….the form is tried and true but I can still speak in diction that is familiar today, and would not likely have been used by Browning or Shakespeare…

      Happy New year! Looking forward to “Dancing in the Rain”!!

  4. Happy New Year to you too Cynthia! Dancing in the Rain will be available soon I hope. Apparently I need a tax information number so that 30% wont be taken when it goes on Amazon. And I want it to make as much as possible for the charity MS Trust. The tax office here in the UK is taking its time as always so Ive handed the issue over to my husband’s accountant and he will be able to chase them up in a businesslike way whereas with me they just keep sending those annoying ‘no reply’ emails. 😊

  5. If it wasn’t for the setting, a new dawn would never return.

    Happy New Year to you … and cheers to a bountiful 2015 … and I’m glad we connected in 2014 (thanks to Mary)

    • …but I keep wondering if we really want a new dawn, or if we want the old dawn to last forever..

      I have enjoyed your blog, Frank; it is always rich in ideas and humor. Your dedication to videos is interesting to me, as I hardly ever watch them otherwise, and I am amazed by your “frequent blogger” credits. I hope 2015 will be a banner year….long may you wave!

  6. It’s true that the sun also rises, except that you need to put in all that stuff about bullfighting and the like. I myself haven’t got the patience. Red is a good color and that’s about as far as I can go. But this is 2015, another age entirely and with little time for regrets. Happy New Year, Cynthia.

    • Dear Prospero, I have missed you! Such a treat it is to read your comment , this afternoon. (I had begun to wonder if anyone had a passing thought of Hemingway here, nevermind the bible.) I wish you a whole new year of finding joy…

  7. ‘the evening’s blush sinks to a deeper red’ How do you do it Cynthia? Every word of that first verse, nay the whole poem, is magic. It is also a perfect piece for the end of the year, and, methinks, an epoch – BRAVO. The sadness is haunting and I love it.
    On a happier note – Happy New Year and especially happy writing and poetry. Your work enchants.

    • I count myself very lucky to have you as a faithful reader of my poetry Jane; your comments always lift my spirits even as they add your own unique perspective on things. I hope the new year brings all good things your way, and wish happy writing to you too!

  8. Again with the intriguing title. The Sun Also Rises is on my secret shameful list that all we bookish types have: things I feel I ought to have read, but haven’t and probably never will. I gave up on For Whom the Bell Tolls halfway through having been annoyed by a passage with a torturous extended metaphor on fairgrounds, written in the running style. A relief to put that down. Sorry, Ernest. Ecclesiastes, on the other hand, I have time for. There is something strangely inspiring in its eloquent fatalism…
    I enjoyed your poem too – maybe ‘enjoyed’ is the wrong word: it is heartbreaking too. But this evening spent catching up on a months worth of your posts is proving very rewarding.

    • Again, the title is how it began. (I have these floating titles waiting to engender a poem). For me, a poem rarely begins with a subject/idea. Occasionally it will begin with a mental image (though I cannot write from photos); most often it begins in language itself—a word, a phrase, a quotation, surrounded by a feeling and a sound….rhythm..

      I am in complete agreement with you about the work of Ernest Hemingway, and have not been able to care about much of it. I love your idea of a secret shameful list, but must confess I don’t have one. I guess that makes me a shameful ignoramus…but I can be forgiven because I was not an English Major, and only decided to read from love and curiosity…Ecclesiastes, yes, and these days probably more re-reading.

      Thank you for all your kind words as you caught up on this month’s postings. It’s been a very nice and cordial visit. I admire your knowledge and devotion to poetry, and very much value you as a reader.

  9. It is interesting how the title begot the poem. It’s a very interesting title. I guess whatever we think of Hemingway’s writing, it has to be admitted that he too had a way with good titles. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I feel I should have read his books. Still I’m glad to hear another bookish person share my opinion…
    And you’re very welcome for the (wholly merited) praise!

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