‘Desire what you already have’.
I wish to see again the silver cat
that pads about my garden, spying all ways,
staring, stalking, chasing a blowing leaf.
His name is Max, and he hallucinates.
He sees fat blackbirds land on fence-posts,
throws himself at them.
I wish for the knack of conjuring
this cat into a poem. I wish
for as much poetic skill
as I already have, the same
tomorrow as today.
‘Make a trial of your apathy’.
I walk the mall from end to end,
recite some poems in my head;
view my own gallery, Picasso’s
Nude with Cat, the Garden of Delights. I am
among the almond trees, or by the Rhine,
and I do not wish.
James Graham was born in 1939 in Ayrshire, Scotland, in a rural cottage lit by oil lamps. He was a teacher for thirty years, but would rather have been a celebrated journalist and best-selling author. His work has appeared in The Dark Horse, Poetry Scotland, and anthologies published by Edinburgh University Press, the Glasgow Centre for Contemporary Arts, the Ragged Raven Press, and others. His second collection, Clairvoyance, was published by Troubador Press in 2007. James is currently a ‘site expert’ and tutor in verse-writing with the internet writers’ community Writewords.org.uk.
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14 Responses to “STOIC PRECEPTS • by James Graham”
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May 22nd, 2009 at 5:40 am
Good poem, depth of thought. This “stoic” must once have wished for much with his collection of “poems in my head; view my own gallery, … I am among the almond trees, or by the Rhine,” but now apathetically accepts being at the end of new attainment. I realize that the poet is not necessarily the voice, but if it is, I hope someone jars this stoic into heightened interest in life, because with some predatory playfulness in poetic structure this good poem could be great.
May 22nd, 2009 at 9:12 am
James, my good man, I love this wistfully wonderful meandering rhythmic thing you’ve created here.
Philip K. Dick said, “Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.”
But what if you believe in it and it goes away, anyway? I know as get older, I wonder,”What shall I keep?” “What shall I remember?” “What have I already forgotten?”
May 22nd, 2009 at 12:17 pm
Wonderfully down to earth. I enjoyed this very much. The hallucinating cat!!
I especially like this:
“I am
among the almond trees, or by the Rhine,
and I do not wish.”
May 22nd, 2009 at 2:31 pm
Well written and fab subject.
–dj
May 23rd, 2009 at 2:35 am
DJ’s already said it; so ditto that from me.
May 23rd, 2009 at 5:32 am
James is a constant source of inspiration for us all.
May 23rd, 2009 at 7:02 am
Errol – What if hiders of reality and distorters of reality and liars won’t go away even when you stop believing in them?
May 23rd, 2009 at 4:48 pm
Roberta: Exactly. “Reality is that which(……….)doesn’t go away.”
I agree there are some harsh realities, as you suggest. Some things we would rather forget. For me, James’ poem was about choosing, about creating a reality that works, after a lifetime of experience, even if that reality is made of life’s illusions.
May 23rd, 2009 at 6:19 pm
This spoke to me. Thanks for writing it.
May 24th, 2009 at 7:07 am
Errol Nimbly – I did not suggest that there are “harsh realities” because that’s known to everyone and needs no comment. I was referring to Philip Dick’s statement that truth does not go away. It does not, but distortions often don’t go away either and what we’re left with is the same questions. We read to break through illusions to a deeper sense of actual truth, but some of what we read leads, if accepted, to greater illusion.
May 24th, 2009 at 12:43 pm
ah, James, I would love to hear you read this for some reason…
A piece that you have obviously crafted carefully, yet it reads as if put together as lightly as the blowing leaf.
Gorgeous!
May 25th, 2009 at 1:49 pm
Wonderful, James. Thia is beautifully formed; the images are very real. I love the opening and closing lines, which frame the poem well. Gorgeous!
June 8th, 2009 at 7:33 am
When the cat hallucinates it makes the poem. I would never have thought of that, but when you say it, it’s like enlightenment strikes. I like the absolutism of the subject’s pruning his desires to meet his circumstance. There’s no self-pity there. Nicely done.
October 19th, 2009 at 2:40 am
I’ve just stumbled on your work thru a poem a day and was delighted to find this one. Setting arguments aside, this moving poem really touched me for it raises questions so gently about what we think about and appreciate as we get older, including that art of remembering and writing poems. I hope you keep writing poetry for many, many years more.