I have lived

Photographer: Colin Smith.  Rising Sun, Weymouth Bay, Dorset, UK.  Licensed for use under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic license.  The original image can be found at http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2772136.

 

 

I have lived

     …Honoring Starbucks’ poem by the same title:

        (http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Starbucks/945275/)

 

I thought, in youth, I'd always last--

A part of me still weeps!

For now there's such diminished time

Before my final sleep

 

With Man's cruel lot, what's Victory?

And who can contradict and say

That these cut flow'rs of yesterday

Don't mirror our decay?!

 

I thought, in youth, I'd always last--

There in the glory of the sun!

Did I build castles in Life's sand--

Of life make ' reckless run?

 

I wanted to embrace so much--

The precious flow'rs of fragrant Spring!

But 'neath Fate's chthon'an hand I lived--

I plumbed the depths of suffering!

 

And Life, I held your tortured bowels--

I held them bloody on my breast!

And now I know most earnestly

I'll suffer on 'til final rest

 

But know that I have fully lived!

Beheld the center of Life's Truths--

And dreamt when young, I'd always last

But now...I'm not that youth

 

 

© 2012, Richard Puetter

All rights reserved

Author's Note

Dear Friends,

I deeply thank Starbucks for encouraging me to post this piece. Thank you so much, my friend. Without the inspiration of your poem, this poem would never be.

Much respect and gratitude,

Rick

Reviews

[Lalli]

What has always struck me with some sort of abrasion is when people comment about how our writing isn't within the confines of their expectations. The art of poetry is the creation and outlet of a person's expression. This expression comes in many forms and is not limited to any structure or expectation. I'll let that sink in for anyone who may read this comment. (Unfair to you, I noticed a little of this in the reviews)

Rick,

Your poetic roots are profound, educated, and deep. So deep that often it is a depth many have not traveled yet. Of all the many writers I've read in my years on WC, you are by far one of the most articulate I've come across.

This is my absolute favorite stanza I have EVER read from you,

"With Man's cruel lot, what's Victory?
And who can contradict and say
That these cut flow'rs of yesterday
Don't mirror our decay?!"

There is so much truth in these lines. What I like about it the most though is it really makes us readers think and question for themselves. Most of your work that I've read has been creative reconstructions of history or culture. This Is the first I've read of you branching out upon more of a inspirational personal journey. I feel like through this poem, I learned more about you than your love for history and culture.

What I'm getting at is I can really identify with this poem. It made me reminisce at my own life, my own joys, recklessness, and pain. But it also allowed me to enter the realm of appreciation. To savor the moment of now! Yes, cherish the memories of the past, excitedly look forward to the future, but to not be so focused on either to the point that we miss the moment of now. As well as the acceptance of our who we are at this point in our journey. These were the inspiring stimulants from my interpretation.

beautiful write my friend. Glad I had an old friend give me a little inspiration to get on here and read something ;)

much love n' respect
-Lalli

[Chris Shaw]

Love the sentiment expressed here Rick. In our youth, there is so much hope, so much optimism, so much to do and look forward too. And not only that, there is time to do it. However, time has a habit of flying by and before we know it we are thinking about the sands running far too quickly through that hour glass. As we age, we lose friends and family and we are only too aware that each day counts. Life is full of surprises. We have raised three grandchildren over the past 20 years. Not at all what was planned, took quite some adjusting, but what we have gained has been immense. I have not yet achieved my full aims. I want to see my grandchildren independent and settled. They aren't there yet. I still have work to do. Of all the things I achieved in the work place, raising them is by far the most rewarding. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem which has helped me to reflect and appreciate what I have, and also what I have lost.

By the way, Weymouth Bay I know very well. We have had many holidays there with our grandchildren. Fabulous image of a setting sun. I also still enjoy sunrise.

Chris

[Ruben Rodriguez]

Wow. I love this poem. I hope I can create a poem on this level someday.

[Zahra]

With Man's cruel lot, what's Victory?
And who can contradict and say
That these cut flow'rs of yesterday
Don't mirror our decay?!

Rick, this is really beautifully penned and thought provoking. btw the link to Starbuck's poem is not clickable.

[SyberRose]

This was a wonderful poem Rick...I bet you embraced more then most...I can tell.
Enjoyed each stanza...especially the first one as I can relate. SyberRose

[Joanna Johnson]

I like this poem -- well versed on the brevity of life. Honestly, it seems to be cross between a Shakespherean sonnet and Psalm. Very well written!

[SarahV]

This poem is amazing! Extremely poetical and vivid imagery, I love it! Especially like the last two lines:
"And dreamt when young, I'd always last

But now...I'm not that youth"

Great way to end your poem! Keep up the good work! :)

[bryandc15]

Honestly..... I don't understand what you meant to say.... ..... sorry I'm so stupid!

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Marie said, "The dreams of youth are not life's truth."
BUT LET ME DREAM

Let me dream as a youth again
Let the chimes of childhood ring
I'd watch the buzzing bumblebee
And I'd pick violets just for thee

I lie again in the meadow grass
And watch the clouds float quietly past
I'd splash and scream in summer sun
I'd sleep and dream when day was done

Let me dream as a youth if vain
With nose against the windowpane
On drizzling days to watch the rain
And hear my mother's voice again

Let me smell her baking bread
And hear the prayers my father said
When we would gather at the table
Oh let me go if I am able

Once again to childhood's hour
Let me wander through the flowers
Tended by the garden glove
Let me feel both free and loved

When my soul knows poverty
In my dreams my wealth will be
To know again the dreams of youth
My mind can claim no greater truth

[Rick Puetter]

Hi Fabian,

Thanks for your review and the excellent poem. It was greatly enjoyed. Yes, the dreams of youth can be so wonderful. They're harder and harder to muster up as we age, but here's to hoping we never truly lose their joy and innocence.

Very best regards,

Rick

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Thank you my friend for inspiring this write. Isn't that what we are here for, inspiration? You were inspired to write your poem inspiring me to write mine. I love that cycle of creativity.

[Rick Puetter]

Yep, that's what we're here for. I love it too. I have been inspired several times to write poems based on those of others at WC.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Funny, as I was writing...a musical doll that I bought mother before she passed away began playing in the room. So hence the line...let the chimes...

[David Scott]

Very sobering. Some of the wording stops up the flow but I actually liked it here. Gave a verbal tension that fit the tone. Read like a good stiff drink after a hard day at work.