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Open Poetry #23
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Last Night With Dickens [for our new members]
| Open Poetry #23 |
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Last Night With Dickens [for our new members] |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart 
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Last Night With Dickens You know how it is, when open to deep thought Especially reading of life’s tragedies brought To forefront by authors now long dead and gone You wonder, ponder, what pushed them on. And it was By candlelight, with quill pen, writers thus wrote Sheaves of papers scattered, did all first thoughts emote The exact phrase and line, or were rewrites given? Ah to be taken back and see them all living. Then, ‘Twas “Charles” I’d been reading, copyright ’62 A young lady wrote there all that she knew Of Dickens life, as if by his side was she, In life’s moment of magic, drawn in to see (Oh how it was) That Dickie’s life was platted while he was so young Even as a child, perceived how things had begun Long before an age to have experienced bloom, Serious life’s forces by which he was entombed. Fascinated, I saw As his wife, dear Kate, closed her intellect’s door While adept sister, Mary, loved Charlie even more, He kept them both close, their spirits he adored While he composed, bewitched, … and wrote even more. I watched as During the worthy times, pending destitute days He always had something profound to say So say he did, quill quivering, writing furiously now His words a panacea as he mopped sweat from his brow. Quiet desperation, love, When his Mary died, his suffering became despair And I felt heartsick for him, ’tho bigotry he had dared In front of his wife, beautiful, sweet, solemn Kate, Two so needed in his life, bigotry a welcome mate. And then, Last night Charlie came, he beckoned unto me There in my reverie, I dreamt I could see His frock coat so, his broadcloth purely white He said, “So, I understand your desire is to write.” Thus, I replied, “Yes, sir, your talented ways, those I have not, All I have before me, is all that I have got While it will not change the world as you had once done, I’ll give my doubtful talent some room to play and run.” Said Charlie, so kind, “Well, keep writing, do a slap-up job” then Charlie, with a nod, Flowed from my dreams, first blurred, then softly bobbed Gently faded out of sight, gone, but never out of mind His true life’s story touched deeply, solemnly sublime. The epilogue: With apologies to Charlie, and to all of you My thanks, and prayers, that none of you may rue The day I came to visit, for with you here, shall share My dreams, hopes, visions, all expression that I dare. ©KRJ 29 August 1999 revised 12 January 2002 |
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| © Copyright 2002 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
Wind
since 2002-10-12
Posts 2981 |
Umm I guess you can count me as a new member. (even though I've been here for a mounth) I enjoyed your poem, but I didn't see the conection between the poem and new members. But i loved it, and for some reason it makes me want to cry... |
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RSWells Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533 |
So fewer distractions then. Uncluttered thought and pure pen. Time for the important reflections. Enjoyed this and your writings. |
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Titia Geertman Member Ascendant
since 2001-05-07
Posts 5182Netherlands |
Well, WOW...what an experience you got there LOL now I know why you write so well, you secretely have a master teacher  But....I might not have Charley...I do have his pet though (thanks to Denise)  Charles Dickens's Raven Titia |
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