adventures in dysthymia

Thursday, June 09, 2011

Laugh

Laugh with me. Laugh anytime,
when we work, play, make love.
The serious, the joyless --
I have known them. Let them
find their own misery.

Cry with me. One can not laugh,
truly, if one can not cry.
Cry for your losses, and mine,
remembering the laughter
and all that we have loved.

And love with me. Every song
will be a love song,
whether it laughs or cries.
We will laugh and cry with it;
we will love so long as it plays.

Stephen Brooke ©2011

Suggested by -- but quite different from -- an idea I'd jotted down ten or eleven years ago. And a much better idea it is than the old one, too!

I finally cashed in an Amazon gift card I received on my birthday for a book of Don Blanding poetry, Vagabond's House. Early stuff of Blanding and with its faults, but fun to read if just for the sound of it. That's true of much of his poetry -- it's about the sound and color of words and rhythms more than any serious meanings or messages. He just seemed to love those exotic names and words.

There was some mention of this sort of thing in the essay on free verse I posted here a little while back. These poems are all (okay, mostly) about form, and that includes the sound and shape of words. Their meaning as metaphor and symbol is very much pushed to the background, though such are always there -- its an integral part of language. But Don Blanding could generally not be accused of being deep, though he does occasionally surprise one!

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