Back to the Lake

Last post I promised a poem of my own so here is one.  I wrote this poem for Dawn for St. Valentine's Day, 2007. I have written most of my poetry about or to Dawn over the years. Most of the poetry I have written over the years has been in response to an image or an emotion. In this poem I wanted to acknowledge companionship. I have learned over thirty plus years that love is more than an emotional state; or better, it is more than an emotional peak or valley. that is what I am trying to express in this poem. 

Every word and image is carefully chosen, consciously and unconsciously.  I once read that among Dylan Thomas' papers were found 75 pages of drafts for a single poem.  Well . . . OK . . . over-thinking that one a bit, Dylan?  I have certainly re-written and edited my poems after writing them out, but only in as much as sometimes other images and emotions get mixed together when composing.  A poem, to me, is the Unconscious communicating to the Conscious Mind and is therefore, by definition, symbolic.  Yes, you can have a very conscious, structured poem, but the inspiration for the poem comes from somewhere beyond the rational mind.  At least that is where my best poems have come from. The task is to marshal those images and combine them with other images that readers will be familiar with to communicate the message you have received.   The poet is a medium for their own psyche. The key to a poem, is to clarify and focus on one thing at a time, then expand on that one thing.  A poem is not a novel, you can't have sub-plots.

That being said, it is interesting to re-read my own poetry, just as I re-read my favorite poets, and see new meaning and new questions.  Just now in re-reading To The Lake, I began to wonder, 'Who threw the ball? And why? Is that unseen actor important to the poem?  What does it represent?'  I guess I will let the reader draw their own conclusion on that.

Any  lake, for me, is always The Lake, Mattawaumkeag, where I spent my happiest moments of my youth up through my college years. the Lake always symbolizes relaxation and reflection.I read Lord of the Rings at the Lake, I met my first friend from the South at the Lake, I slept (eventually) on that marvelous bed on the porch listening to the water lapping the rocky shore and the loons calling each other on the far shore at the Lake, and I met the ghost of my past at the Lake.  

Just after I graduated from college, I spent ten days there: reading, reflecting, boating, fishing, cooking and smoking. I have never forgotten those days and the books I read there (Albert Camus, Harvey Cox, Daniel Berrigan). It has been one of the happiest times in my entire life. So for me, the Lake always represents reflection on actuality and contemplation of potentiality.

Why the dogs? We had dogs on the farm when I was growing up and I could take them or leave them. I never had a 'dog of my own', per se. In my adult life, we have never been in a position to be able to afford a dog, either in terms of time or money. Although we talked about getting a dog not too long ago (and Dawn had a dog when she was growing up), I doubt it is something we will pursue. We would rather have the freedom to do things than the companionship of a pet. That being said, the dogs for me represent loyalty and companionship. To see two dogs together, you can see their recognition of each other, and their communion with each other as a species. It is as if they think, 'Yes, lets be together with these humans and serve them, but let's not forget who we are. and let's be joyful in our service.'

The scene is bright with sunlight, then. The dogs are black labs. The ball is a florescent green tennis ball. The pines that come down and lean over the water are deep green and dense. There is the edge of a camp in the background.  The water is still and dark. The dock is worn and rolls out into the lake on old iron wagon wheels. It creaks when the dogs run on it. Somewhere further down the lake, children swim and shout to each other.

Return to the Lake

for Dawn

The brilliant green ball arcs
Across the still lake. Lands
With a plop.
An instant later the pair of retrievers
Race down the dock, shoulder to shoulder,
Tongues wagging from canine grins.
They reach the dock’s edge and leap as one,
Heedless, they follow the balls arc.

It is the easiest thing in the world, the easiest thing
To write from pain, from longing, from passion. The
Dagger in the heart drives the word. But what
Happens when the blade is withdrawn?
When the wound closes and the chambers fill again?

What song for the dog’s joy? The simple meal,
The warm bed, The companion at
Your shoulder? The common goal?

We see our pair suspended, hanging
Over the still water. Paws outstretched,
Tails back, noses alert.
Thighs ready for the landing, eyes
On the brilliant ball. A moment from
Now we will celebrate their joyous splash.

February 14, 2007