BTT #63: Walking the Dog on the Fairway at 9 pm

moonlight green
Photo by Lona Gynt.  Taken on our neighborhood golf course.

Walking the Dog on the Fairway at 9 pm

·

I.

I have never

Taken up golf.

Life has always

Been too full

Of other things

I love to do already

For which there

Is no time.

Like holding you

As I used to

When we thought

We knew the score,

When we left and came

Together at every

Placement tasting daily

The certainty lifting off

The rivers like a breeze

Whispering an end to the

Green and weight

Of summer air

Turning crisply in the

Times and seasons

Of what our

Love was for.

·

II.

Now I am here

In the darkness

Standing near the

Grass so clipped

And scrubbed

That even the

Lightning bugs

Have fled to

More obscure

Corners beyond

Reach of whatever

It might be

We are allowed to

Be spraying these days.

You are not that

Far away, sitting

In our home

Quietly, studying the

World that finds us

In our phones,

Divided from each other

By neither distance nor

The hand of crepitude, but

By the lifting of layers,

As when the green

Starts fading

From the leaves

Not to whither, but

To burn

With colors

That were

Simply waiting

To be seen.

·

III.

But it is too

Dark now

To care

About that, how

Could you have known

I was there

When that person who

We thought I was

Fought so strongly

Holding me down

Beneath the waters with

Those hands, and

Press of breathings…

Small wonder

You did not see me

Until he faded.

He did not end

With a crash or a bang,

Or a loosening of the hold,

Or even with a whimper,

But just the

Weightless passing

That brought me

To the sunlight,

Shining now

A short time

From branches

Draping Red

And orange and gold

Before the

Snows descend.

·

IV.

I never let

You know me,

So now you cannot

Want me.

So here I stand

Fairly certain only

That the grass here

Still greens at noontime,

And my dog is

In her first heat

And so, is tugging

Tautly in her leash

Seeking exposition

Of other mysteries,

And that strand

Of weary starlight

Hurtling out

From the furnaces

Of a dead epoch

Passing first the

Silver clouds silent

Above the trees

Breaching entry

To my eyes

To be grappled, crushed,

Wrestled and destroyed,

Forged to some

New thing

From what it was,

Landing in the

Rounded nesting

Of my skull,

Becoming

What it sees.

·

-Lona Gynt  August 2019.

·

This is posted for dVerse Open Link Night (OLN)  hosted by Mish.  Here is the link

Open Link Night #249

·

But I had wanted to link it to Amaya’s dVerse prompt for “Smoke and Mirrors.”  But I was late…

This is a wonderful prompt.   Here is the link:

Poetics: Smoke and Mirrors

·

Since my poem takes place on a golf course, I am going to give you all sorts of links.  Amaya gives us a version of “The Panther” by Rilke in her post.  I have never found a version as beautiful as the original German.  But I think the most wonderful English translation is by Walter Arndt.  Here is a link to a site that has five different translations.  Find the one by Arndt, and tell me if I’m not right.  🙂

http://picture-poems.com/rilke/panther.html

·

All rights reserved for text and images by Lona Gynt  August 2019.

moonlight green

 

44 thoughts on “BTT #63: Walking the Dog on the Fairway at 9 pm

    1. No, I don’t often walk all 18 holes, usually a 3-5 mile loop of the paths closest to our home. At night. It is pretty peaceful and cool, and the management does not mind as long as we keep it clean. Coyotes and deer also frequent it at night. Saw a skunk at dusk once, I turuned around briskly.

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  1. It’s funny, Jane said in response to my smoke and mirrors poem that we need to pick away our layers to know ourselves. You have expressed this beautifully. And as I said in response to her, I’m still a work in progress. Perhaps we always are. (K)

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Wow Lona, what a wonderful walk, through the seasons of the year, through the seasons of a life, through a long unfolding search, to a discovery of truth — excellent, coherent, genuine writing! A pleasure to read!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thank you Rob, It brings me joy to see that you have been able to see so many layer of the journey here. Makes my day, very insightful and gorgeous reading. Thank you my friend!

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      1. You are welcome Lona. Authentic writing, like this, is inspiring and makes great sense, offering an insight to the poet and the world. Too damned many poets write simply to be as bloody obscure as possible, with no real substance behind the words — or substance only they can decode. Why even write in that case. I am getting close, here in my old age, to simply passing on any poem that has not provided some grist to grind early in the reading. It just wastes my time, and I ain’t got much time left. See how grumpy I am getting.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Lona,
    There is so much that is right in front of us that we cannot see or hear. These are are lines that resonated with me most in your poem.
    “As when the green

    Starts fading

    From the leaves

    Not to whither, but

    To burn

    With colors

    That were

    Simply waiting

    To be seen.”

    I also enjoyed the cause and effect of the human relationships and the connection to nature in this poem. Great read.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Hi Lona, I had to come see who it was that taught me a new word tonight.
    I always do a bit of a sigh when I go to read other poems. Mostly those from Instagram who say “please read my poem”. I’m usually cringing by the second line and abandon it by the 6th. I cannot handle the destruction of such a beautiful art.

    Here, the more poems I read the more in awe I am of the people’s minds that think then up.

    I love how matter-of-factly, yet eloquently you detail the transition of yourself all the while loving someone who can’t see you, knowing it’s not their fault. Yea… Very cool.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh Lyn, hello. This is such a wonderful and succinct rendering of so much of the heart of the poem, I believe you may have picked the locks to its center. I am so grateful that this came through. Yes, I have changed, it is matter-of-fact at this point, strange that it should be so, even still. And how I love her… and recognize how inextricably unfair and difficult it is for her. Much like with myself, I cannot blame her, I can only thank her. Thank you also new friend, a wonderful reading. Your poem is really nice, welcome to dVerse. I haunt it when I can, which is not nearly as often as I would like. It is good to have you here.

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  5. I’m not a deep reader into trans experience — so forgive my lack of adroit language — but this is one of the clearest expressions of the immense difficulties finding identity in the hottest darkness of the intimate I-Thou. It’s a great scene for it–walking on the edges of golf course at night, wholly useless at that hour to daylight purposes, alive and vibrant in so many more ways. It is like walking on the edge of a self that only reveals itself at that hour. The short lines allow us to read quickly a descending path into an interior that is made lustrous in memory and grief, yet walks on about the daily, nightly business of living forward. I can’t see how the heart can be at all visible in an Instagram post, it takes five translations and the original to see just how the darkness of the panther is magnified by the small amount of light along the edges of the bars, and how much is coiled facing away from simple observation, like the magnitude of a golf course seen only at night. Good hard work, friend, and accomplished close to pitch perfect.

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    1. Thank you for this my friend. Your reading is always an instruction and a song to me. So much of my life is as you describe, apparently useless to so many, who either do not know who I am, or if they have the chance to see me may consider me a useless anachronism, useless to the usual purpose. But the world is less of what it shouldn’t be in some way, and this gives me hope for the future, congenital optimist, or as Mary Chapin Carpenter has sung… perhaps a magical thinker. But a reading such as this, it is just simply wonderful, and I am grateful. There is memory, and there is grief, but also vibrant new colors, and your words, I feel they hold my heart in their hands. Thank you.

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  6. (You’re right about Arndt, even if the rhythm is a bit staggering. But who’s life flows in captivation? I really went off the beaten path with that other translation, apparently.)

    Oh my God. I don’t say that in vain. Our God is with you, my beloved friend. In perhaps your most tender piece of writing, you touch the place most in need of reflection and transformation in the whole of the human psyche: our relationship to our innate nature. Your courage in going there, when the rest of us want to keep spraying, keep saying “I am green, I am green, I am green!” True love is impervious to life’s seasons, but acts as the axis spinning in the center out of simple devotion to the world.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you my dear Amaya. I also feel that our God is with us, for all of it, height and depths. This is a tender piece, and I am grateful with how it came together, I have to admit that I thought about shopping it around a bit, but I did not have the patience, if I am honest, to delay letting you and Brendan see it. The readings you have each given from slightly different polarities is a bounteous compensation. There are things about each of us that we can strive to overcome, but then there is indeed an innate nature to each of us that I believe is divine, and at this point I feel a peaceful connection leading me in my pilgrimage. You have given me a pretty far-raching addition to my mantras:
      “True love is impervious to life’s seasons, but acts as the axis spinning in the center out of simple devotion to the world.” You are such a blessing to me.
      Oh and about Rilke’s Panther… I actually really like the translation you found by Lemont in your post. I do like the rhythm of Lemont’s last line better than Arndt’s, but I like the Arndt’s general rhyming and structure better. I might be tickling the toes of the giant to suggest that Arndt’s last line could have been:
      “Stillness—only in the heart to end.”

      I love that Arndt used the word lissom. I am always reminded of the need to look beyond the bars of our structures by Rilke’s heart rending cat.

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      1. I apologize for not writing sooner. My first thought upon reading your poem was to share it on my blog, but now since I only use the site for dVerse prompts and made it invisible to the Reader, I’m not sure any more eyes would see it besides the disciples here. It was astonishing. I hope you do submit some of your work to journals but of course I’m grateful to get to see your poems in real time:) Speaking of real, it sounds like you’re dealing with it now in a more public way than it’s been before. May God be your strength, dear Lona, and may the people in your life see that He’s got you. When you see it how God does, we really don’t have much in common with Rilke’s cat. Not today.

        Liked by 1 person

  7. Enthralling. This poem is built like a path of reality and truth (the only one worth following). I like the way it crescendos in intensity but at the same time, the voice is composed, unfaltering….there is a peacefulness within the words. This has to be one of my favourites of yours….so far.

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  8. Metamorphosis that tick-tocks like the clock. I love the photo, where the brightness of the moon is partially obscured by the twigs, but soon it will rise high in the sky, in all of its glory. Your poem is deep cool water in the night.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Though no one would call this a fun poem, I enjoyed reading it, out loud because of it’s conversational sincerity and the depths of an inner world exposed in such a simple moment. It is a
    sweet-sad, not bitter, poem which has, I imagine, a relatable sigh for anyone who reads it regardless of their circumstances. Touching. Thank you Lona. Can you help me understand more of the last moon and brain section? Only if you want to though.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Anything for you Kristen. I am grateful bitterness isn’t felt here,. About the fourth stanza, I would love to comment, but the interesting puzzle about poetry is that the reading can be as personal as the writing. So I might hesitate to superimpose my thoughts to clearly since this is a poem and not an expository. This poem started to germinate with me thinking about how it could be if we were like starlight that travels across vast distances, to land on our retina and is changed from ancient photic energy into neural energy, a physical presence in our brain composed of neurotransmitters and neurons and networks, becoming an actual part of us, in a sense becoming the thing that it is seeing or remembering. This seems a very intimate act, and accompanies that longing for a human correlate in our relationships, when we are seen and held by another, do we influence the other sufficiently that they become what they see to a degree, do they change? This is hard especially as the constituents of the “I-thou” develop or unlayer themselves, it becomes difficult. But it is certainly a blessing to have been held, even if only for a season.

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