No, Never Again Poem by Frank Avon
No, Never Again
Do not call to me from beneath your mound of covers and coverlets,
do not let your whispers seek me out, seduce me, nor your warmth,
for I am wasted, and what was once mine and mine alone is now no more.
Let me hear the singing of the willows in some far distant land,
let me dissolve myself in what remains, what sustains me, reflection.
There will be no new tomorrow when we arouse, no refreshing morning,
there will be not once again, never again, those first faint stirrings
of lives to be, to come, to tantalize us into rising and falling,
and rising and falling, until we soar into the deepest dissolution
of all. No. There will be no blistering noon, nude, in the sunlight,
no sinking into the waters of, the warm depths, the velvet folds
of that highest of all outbursts, those groans of resolution. No. No.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/2/2024 10:31:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This is a poem of closure. It is very urgent, and despite its carefully crafted stanza structure, it is a cry of desperation. But such is human life. To deny that would be unworthy of us after we have benefited in so many ways from the gifts of life. I too am reaching that stage of my life and I have a twin sister whose very presence in my life makes it impossible to deny. The energy, the passion in your poem plays a similar role. It creates the energy needed to propel us into this stage of time and being. // Back in the 1980s I started reading Nicholas Boyle's immense biography of Goethe. The first two volumes are Goethe the eager young man and the vital middle aged man. The third volume has not been released - that will be Goethe in the winter of his life which I will read in the winter of my life. But Boyle has already told us in vol.2 what to expect: Goethe was a Man of Desire, who in old age, with great and fierce effort, accepted the role of a Man of Renunciation. And he achieved in those last years a grace and happiness awaiting all of us who can accomplish this transition. Your poem traces that Goethean destiny awaiting us, summoning us.