Go Now So Gently Into That Good Night! Co-write With Sheila Kline

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We recently learned that a writer and friend of Writer’s Café is facing his final days with friends and family.  And in the knowledge that words are only words, and that oft times even the most graceful of words utterly fail, we offer our most heartfelt prayers.  Our deepest respect.

 

 

Go now so gently into that good night!

 

     Inspired by “Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night”, Dylan Thomas, 1914-1953

 

Go now so gently into that good night,

Unerring faith holds steady at night’s eve;

Soar, soar into the harbor of the light.

 

And at life’s end, the wise hold good as right,

And they revere the grace that good works weave;

Go now so gently into that good night.

 

And at death’s door, good men, they cry how bright

Their trust held strong, a pow'r that ne’er deceives;

Soar, soar into the harbor of the light.

 

Sage men encompass goodness in its might,

And virtue through that faith they do receive;

Go now so gently into that good night.

 

Brave men, near death, who have fought the good fight,

Their journey comes and yet they do not grieve;

Soar, soar into the harbor of the light.

 

And you, Dear Friend, now readied to take flight,

Rejoice with me as life doth take its leave;

Go now so gently into that good night.

Soar, soar into the harbor of the light.

 

 

©2017 Sheila Bowyer Kline & Richard Puetter

All rights reserved individually and together.

Note

 

Our poem is meant to honor and contrast with Dylan Thomas’ poem “Do not go gentle into that good night,” which is repeated below.

Do not go gentle into that good night

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

 

From The Poems of Dylan Thomas, published by New Directions. Copyright © 1952, 1953 Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1937, 1945, 1955, 1962, 1966, 1967 the Trustees for the Copyrights of Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1938, 1939, 1943, 1946, 1971 New Directions Publishing Corp. Copyright provided free for educational use.

Reviews

[Vertigo Cat1111]

This is a gorgeous poem full of grand imagery and just so much goodness. This is beautiful and dreamy, reminding me of my actual dreams. It soars in its words, it takes flight exactly as you say. And then the darker parts are brilliant and the entire thing is just an amazingly well written. A great collaboration between two writers who know exactly how to tug at heart strings and use their words. Thank you for sharing!

[emmajoy]

It's been such a long time since I read any of your or Sheila's writing.. mea culpa if permitted.

If anyone needs or request inspiration from words, why not choose the sombre beauty of Dylan's poem. I know he's not everyone's favourite but to hear him read his own words is, for me -- momentary step in space,

Your combined skills at and upon the written word has always been incredible - this one of the best of goodness knows how many.. Death should be a drifting off to gentle oblivion with appropriate soft fanfare. Sadly, tragically there is little justice in life, so same follows at death. Too many deaths take life from countries, lovers, families et al so that comfort comes at the most terrible cost. Jeartbreak is loud, vicious, angry, helpless.. wretched. To each his/her own.. the end is what it is. The saddest and most vicious pain of all pain.

I don't draw quotes from a collaboration, tis too unsubtle.especially when a piece is as Whole as can be.

[Nolo Segundo]

I just re-read this, Rick, and if I didn't know you better, I'd read it almost as a testament of faith-- so much 'religious' imagery: 'unerring faith, grace, goodness, revere...'. I'm sure you meant a different connotation, but '...soar, soar into the harbor of the light' '? That, logically it seems to me, can only be taken literally for if death is extinction, if one has no eternal self, then all else is moot and meaningless, including whatever was left behind, including reputation, good works, etc.-- Absurd actually, as Camus and some of the brave atheists point out. Still, I like your poem much more than D.T.'s.

[Rick Puetter]

Rereading this again, myself. Now this is a joint poem with my friend and author, Sheila Klein. Sheila is quite religious, and she asked to add my comments and suggestions. So I put my two cents in here and there. And it does have a definite flavor that I added--but it's primarily Sheila's poem. Now regarding my philosophical view of the world--I know you know that I am an atheist--but I have absolutely no problem with any of this. It suits me just fine. I think people are often surprised that atheists can say and be comfortable with things like this. But think about it. Being an atheist doesn't remove your humanity. We all go through this experience of life and are affected in pretty much the same way. We may interpret things differently, but we share the common experience of life. Now, like DT, I rail against the ending of the light. But I will probably in the end go gently into that good night, and soar into the harbor of the light. I will set down my labors. I will shut down. I will slip away (I hope) into the darkness ahead. I do not fear it because there is nothing to fear. I face no torture. I face no suffering. I simply face oblivion like everyone before me, and like I had before I was born and became aware. What is terrible about that? There is nothing terrible about that. I face the same thing every night when I go to bed. So I will go gently into that good night. Sounds sort of good, actually. It's like the rest at the end of a hard day with the promise that there will never be another hard day. It's sort of comfortable, actually, and I can finally drop my shoulders and let out all the tenseness I've been holding there. I can sigh and let out a peaceful breath. Very relaxing. It will be "top of the morning to you! Greatest respects, and a fond good bye. Have a wonderful life. I have lived as fully as I could, and I had great fun. That's a wrap! I'm done and I have no regrets."

[Nolo Segundo]

Methinks thou do protest too much, my friend--a bit like rationalization, it seems to mine ears--and you really don't 'face oblivion' at night, unless you're the only human being extant who doesn't dream--and each dream is like a little life of which our 'daytime' life is completely unaware, but nonetheless quite real whilst we dream it.

[Rick Puetter]

Well, I'm surprised you think I protest too much. These are my honest and open feelings. And I know I probably dream each night, but is I do, I never remember them. NEVER. Well, once in a blue moon, like maybe once or twice a year. So to me, sleep is like turning of consciousness. Now it's true, that I do expect to wake up in the morning, but if I didn't wake up, I would be none the wiser. So death is not particularly troubling to me. So if this is protesting too much, so be it, but it is what I think and feel.

[Roland Petrov]

Well, I do love the contrast. I've worked for the past five years in hospice situations, and I've only seen people go gently. I have yet to see one raging, including my own father who, against all odds, went gently.

[Great Aunt Astri]

Well done, both of you. Would but death were a pleasant experience. No one ever comes back to tell us. But your poem is full of power and optimism. Perhaps, when the physical lights go, we might see the celestial light. I love your phrase, 'the harbour of the light.'

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I love the positivity of embracing the storm that will deliver us to the shores of our next destination. We most often grieve and are saddened to see loved ones go, but hopefully there is energy beyond this life wherein our own energy goes into that beautiful oblivion. This is a beautiful homage and tribute.

[Finn]

It reminds me on interstellar but hope full and that is why it is good.

[Nolo Segundo]

beautiful, quite beautiful...

[mattavelli]

Hello, Rick! :)
This is a great villanelle and a great mirror to the one by Thomas. And, it looks like it was a fun write! The cadence is lovely. It pushed me to read "power" as one syllable, maybe with an accent. Haha.
"who have fought the good fight" - was a slight stumble in the cadence and a bit cliche.
Lovely, thoughtful, and faithful, and well done!

[Samuel Dickens]

Relic steered me to Sheila's earlier today. It's a comfort to know there are friends who may care and show honor when we embark upon the final journey as you two have done here. The recipient must feel appreciative. (I know I would)