Poem about elegy. You can read the best elegy poems. Browse through all elegy poems.

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  • 349.
    Cliburn In Moscow

    'is there anyone
    who can peer into your eyes
    and with his own blood fuse
    two centuries worth of vertebrae? '
    -Osip Mandelstam, The Age

    cliburn in moscow
    holding in his arms
    the flame-tipped roses of the bygone,

    a last music box from the tattered silk
    families, inscribed with only song-
    like a favored child

    overloaded at Christmas-
    could not contain enough music
    to express this miracle:

    amethyst sunbursts beading the river
    music, ruling the world...
    how could he leave (he never could)

    raspberry, the light in the skies and the
    weeping coronas of a music
    exquisitely tuned, returned through him

    to them, in the jeweled air
    by an orphaned moment looping in on itself
    from the long-ago: whole etudes of the

    half-forgotten summers rippling the ponds
    willow stirred; fire-branded, the white piano
    evenings, on our hearts, then the ghosts of music

    whispered, now...
    and was it engraved on the pale blue snows
    of the soul's long fortitude, all along, their delicate

    farewell in you repeated, going back to
    the first measure?
    once domes of pure silver glinted a silver music unbound,

    unprecedented, fusing the brokenness
    and continents merged as though there were no ocean
    but the ocean of music, sparkling, flashing diamond myriad

    mystical, pressed to the heart but the heart is... fleeting
    and cannot be embroidered on your pillow, child
    not even in vermilion, tamarind, glistening, blue

    snows will not erase, nor all of time,
    the burnished image from the mind the sounds
    dropped from Heaven by the astonished angels

    uncareful of their prize

    mary angela douglas 12 june 2014; rev.14 june 2014

    Note on the poem:
    The first stanza of the poem refers to scenes of Cliburn being loaded down with family heirlooms and souvenirs by kind
    Russian concert goers deeply affected by his music. This happened to him, I believe, each time he returned to Russia.

    You may think I dropped a note or two to call the gold domes of Moscow silver. Or is it Petersburg? Or was it a deliberate misreading to indicate a psychological state when the inner light is so blinding that physical details of the outward scene, no matter how beautiful cannot registr properly or is it that the domes of silver rising from the music of Van Cliburn's concerts, were silver? the very silver of the poets of the Silver Age...

    uncareful (in the final line) , also, is not a real word in English but I often use the prefix 'un'(meaning, not) in front of a word if this causes the sounds to flow together more beautifully (so I coined 'uncareful' instead of using the usual 'careless'.

    Where Is the Beautiful Where You Were is an elegy I wrote after Van Cliburn died. And this shorter poem, though written so much later is kind of a broken off icicle from the eaves of, the opus of that larger sorrow, if this makes sense to you I would be amazed. read more »

  • 350.

    A "Stranger in Moscow" told me that you've gone!
    But is it true that you've gone my M.J.?
    And with tears in my eyes I say goodbye my M.J.
    You who feeds the eyes and the ears read more »

  • 351.
    It Blows No Man's Good

    Shall my sorrow for one day turn into laughter?
    Who is he that has prophesied? You false prophet hold it to yourself.
    Have all not developed teeth? Yet teeth development remains a dream to me.
    When shall I become a man? When? read more »

  • 352.

    Shall my sorrow for one day turn into laughter?
    Who is he that has prophesied? You false prophet hold it to yourself.
    Have all not developed teeth? Yet teeth development remains a dream to me.
    When shall I become a man? When? read more »

  • 353.

    From the beginning rises their anguish.
    At the point of no return they languish.
    Fought against the iron shackle that held them bond.
    Their arms, bodies and dreams lay in darkness. read more »

  • 354.
    Once Upon a Time...

    Once upon a time,
    “Once upon a time…”
    was what every child loved to hear.
    It was what every adult loved to say. read more »

  • 355.
    My Heart Was Filled With Your Words

    The curtain rose on the stage, and I saw you standing there.
    The lights above were shining down upon your ink black hair.
    My heart proudly skipped a beat when you looked into my eyes,
    and I felt myself tremble then for what I felt arise. read more »

  • 356.
    The shadow of you sleeping naked

    Your father's eye,
    where does it lead?
    Listen to the ground,
    the earth can't afford anything it wants. read more »

  • 357.
    Mary Toodle-Pip

    Mary slammed her old phone down with a bang.
    Her neatly-pressed gingham dress swirled and shook
    As she whirled around, 'DANG! '
    'The Mobile Home Ombudsman is not in, ' 'The schnook! ' read more »

  • 358.
    Little Elegy

    read more »

  • 359.
    October's grave

    October.the time for my mind to wander

    and pluck the wilted leaves, read more »

  • 360.
    An Attempt at Hamlet

    A cloud of innocence,
    Tell me; how did the whole world
    Accumulate in your body, read more »

New Elegy Poems

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  24. Poem, Marvin Brato Sr
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  36. Stand And Watch, Naveed Akram
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  58. NIGHT…., Elorm Dogbo
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