"Clouds of Glory"

[Ken_Nye]

"Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass,
Of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not;
Rather find strength in what remains behind."

William Wordsworth



It was Wordsworth who introduced me to
the poetic celebration of the glory around us:
the miracles hidden in the dirt and rough
of fields and lawns;
in sparkling speckles of mica
sifted through stone outcroppings;
in fugue-like melodies tumbling from mountain brooks
as they wend their way through forests smothered in a silence
that sings.

It was he who set out in words
a vision of who we are and from whence we came,
who spoke of clouds of glory
floating like halos
over the infants we held in our arms.

Wordsworth felt the splendor fade,
diminishing as he aged.

Yet when I read his words again,
the pictures not only brighten the sky
of my burgeoning sunset,
they waft over me a joyous soft breeze
of comfort and assurance
that when my sun sets,
I will float back through those clouds of glory
and find myself where I began.

[purplejacket]

Hi Ken.
I do so love to read the things you write.

I was recently telling my friend Leonard, "that there are so many more interesting ways to... to... To pound an existence out of electric clay and roar, 'ALIVE!!!' I'd hate to see you move away from that.

Each of us does that - each of us lays claim to that glory. Wordsworth too. He's just one of us, and I don't know if it's true & fair to give him so much godly credit. imho, maybe a more subtle allusion to him among your glorious declarations would be worthy of investigation. In the places here where you own the glory as your own, the writing is grand. Or perhaps write this as a response to what he wrote.

Also - not so sure about the burgeoning sunset. It's a tough one to find a good word for, isn't it? Something that's coming into view, but at the same time, the light is fading? Is that what you're going for?

[Marion Poirier]

Ken this is an eloquent and poetic piece that flows
beautifully. I also love the poem by Wordsworth
and it has obviously made a lasting impression on you.
I don't find any nits in this fine poem except a suggestionh
in the last stanza.

they waft over me like a (joyous) soft breeze ...

I'm not sure you need joyous as you have assurance
and comfort in following line (enough modifiers).

Good to see you posting here.

Marion

[Ken_Nye]

Thanks, purplejacket and Marion, for the r eviews.

Purp, I know what you mean about "burgeoning," but I couldn't come up with aniy thing alternative. Any ideas?

Marion, I think youo're right about "llike." I'll add it.

Thanks, guys.

Ken

[Ken_Nye]

Marion, I changed miy mind. I think "like" breaks the flow of that line, and I think the reader can make the metaphor in her mind. I called Ann in to look at this. She said she could see what you were talking about and suggested a comma after "waft over me." But that is an even more dramatic break in the flow of the sentence. I think I'm going to leave it for now, unless I get overwhelmedd by others.

But thanks,you perfectionist, for your idea.
Ken

[mfwilkie]

Ken,

Wow! My first read through this was so enjoyable. I love when a fellow poet
writes about the masters that came before us.

Will look this over again in the morning.

Tonight I'm just enjoying it.

Maggie

[LynnDoiron]

Lovely, lovely, Ken.

lynn

[Ron Wallace (Scotshawk)]

I can sense the feel and language of Wordsworth in the piece, Ken, and I think that plays well here. The whole work takes on that conversational sound that is so appealing in your work. Where I might say strike "joyous" or "burgeoning" in another work; here, I think they fit.

Very nice, has the classic Ken Nye feel and sound to it.

Ron

[alfredo]

It is indeed a special . I hope your splendour never fades

[Jonathan Morey Weiss-Namaste47]

Ken..........this is certainly my favorite poem of yours. Different from your usual writing (to me, anyway) the groundedness inherent in your poems has allowed itself to grow wings and move into a higher plane. I am glad for your inspiration, whatever the source.

[alfredo]

Ken I have been meaning to tell you how much like this …and I do But first I wanted more time to dwell but that time or the amount of it, only just arrived.

I too like to write about nature- perhaps the most poetic of subjects. And I too used tumbling to paint the picture of the brook - which pleased me - as it does again here. However you have drawn on much richer, wider descriptors than I. Thank you again

[Ken_Nye]

Thank you, Alfred.

[Ron Buck (halfshell)]

Nicely done Ken... the rythms are spot on and usage damn clean, direct and most important, ALIVE! You've come into a place of comfort here and it draws the spirit without piling on poetica.

tidings
ron

[mfwilkie]

It was Wordsworth who introduced me to
the poetic celebration of the glory around us:
the miracles hidden in the dirt, and the rough
of fields and lawns;
in the sparkling speckles of mica(,) No comma here.
sifted through stone outcroppings;
in the fugue-like melodies tumbling out of from mountain brooks
as they wend their way through forests smothered in a silence
that sings. *

Ken, In these last few sentences of the first stanza, isn't it more like a deceptive stillness than a silence?

It was he who set out in words
a vision of who we are and from whence we came,**

** What about: He set his image of us in words,

He set his vision in words
and spoke of clouds of glory
floating like halos
over the infants we held in our arms.

Wordsworth felt the splendor fade,
diminishing as he aged.

Yet when I read his words again, ***
the pictures not only brighten the sky
of my burgeoning sunset,
they waft over me a joyous soft breeze
of comfort and assurance
that when my sun sets,
I will float back through those clouds of glory
and find myself where I began.

*** Ken, What about beginning the last stanza with the uplifting lines in the center; then the 'burgeoning sunset becomes secondary to the feelings his words give you.

Maggie

[ramadevi]

Love this one Ken. Like Jon said, it has grown wings...

Only on tiny typo still remains-

n fugue-like melodies tumbling fromf mountain brooks (from)

Beautiful and inspired. Very KEN.

Love, rd