3 ms·

Ahead of Time: On Poetry and Mourning

25 points by lermontov 3y ago

jacknobody 3y ago
I thought this was good :) I stood on the porch tonight— which way do we face to talk to the dead? I thought of the new rose, and went out over the grey lawn— things really have no color at night. I descended the stone steps, as if to the place where one speaks to the dead. The rose stood half-uncurled, glowing white in the black air. Later I remembered your birthday. You would have been ninety and getting roses from me. Are the dead there if we do not speak to them? When I came to see you you were always sitting quietly in the chair, not knitting, because of the arthritis, not reading, because of the blindness, just sitting. I never knew how you did it or what you were thinking. Now I sometimes sit on the porch, waiting, trying to feel you there like the color of the flowers in the dark
- cgio 3y ago
  I thought that “which way do we face to talk to the dead?” is the material of masterpiece. An innocent question with many answers, one for every reader or maybe, one for every reader’s dead.
pringk02 3y ago
I recently started reading poetry, by chance of discovering a small, specialist poetry library near my office. It's been really enriching, and I've felt my appreciation and the enjoyment for poetry grow exponentially after I let go and stopped trying too hard. It used to always seem to be impenatrable to me, until I just accepted that some things would resonate with me and others weren't and not even everything by a specific poet would. But it's low commitment to give things a go. I've mainly been astounded by something that, when I say it out loud seems obvious: everything I've felt, good and bad, has been felt by countless others and that's only counting those who wrote poems about it. And it stretches across at least as long as written history does. There's comfort in that alone for me.
- deleted 3y ago
  [deleted]
- ohwellhere 3y ago
  My journey was similar. After walking through enough art museums and realizing that I only really engaged with and was moved by a few pieces and it was still worth it, I was able to read books of poetry much more calmly.
drewchew 3y ago
The potential to get wrecked by something like this on a Sunday morning in the midst of things like "google maps is broken" and "check out this cool thing I made" is what makes hacker news a special place.

25 points by lermontov 3y ago

I thought this was good :) I stood on the porch tonight— which way do we face to talk to the dead? I thought of the new rose, and went out over the grey lawn— things really have no color at night. I descended the stone steps, as if to the place where one speaks to the dead. The rose stood half-uncurled, glowing white in the black air. Later I remembered your birthday. You would have been ninety and getting roses from me. Are the dead there if we do not speak to them? When I came to see you you were always sitting quietly in the chair, not knitting, because of the arthritis, not reading, because of the blindness, just sitting. I never knew how you did it or what you were thinking. Now I sometimes sit on the porch, waiting, trying to feel you there like the color of the flowers in the dark

cgio 3y ago
I thought that “which way do we face to talk to the dead?” is the material of masterpiece. An innocent question with many answers, one for every reader or maybe, one for every reader’s dead.

pringk02 3y ago

I recently started reading poetry, by chance of discovering a small, specialist poetry library near my office. It's been really enriching, and I've felt my appreciation and the enjoyment for poetry grow exponentially after I let go and stopped trying too hard. It used to always seem to be impenatrable to me, until I just accepted that some things would resonate with me and others weren't and not even everything by a specific poet would. But it's low commitment to give things a go. I've mainly been astounded by something that, when I say it out loud seems obvious: everything I've felt, good and bad, has been felt by countless others and that's only counting those who wrote poems about it. And it stretches across at least as long as written history does. There's comfort in that alone for me.

deleted 3y ago
[deleted]
ohwellhere 3y ago
My journey was similar. After walking through enough art museums and realizing that I only really engaged with and was moved by a few pieces and it was still worth it, I was able to read books of poetry much more calmly.

drewchew 3y ago

The potential to get wrecked by something like this on a Sunday morning in the midst of things like "google maps is broken" and "check out this cool thing I made" is what makes hacker news a special place.