When to Say Goodbye
If all goes well it will never happen.
The dry grass in the shade whispers
while the vines crunch underfoot,
releasing a bitter odor. A year ago
I led my dog to his death, the third
in five years. How such counting
precedes affection, dwindles ever
so slowly, one star winking out after
another, till only the morning gray
hangs above us, solemn, indefinite.
Voiceless. If I could cock my head
to howl, who would understand? Not
one dog or three, neither mother nor
mentor, not my friend’s sister nor her
father and his nephews, the two boys
belted safely in the back seat. No.
I walk downhill and closer to the creek,
where the vines are still green.
In the shade of a large cedar, a turtle
slips into the water and eases away.
* * *
“When to Say Goodbye,” drafted during the August 2015 Tupelo Press 30-30 challenge, was published by Oxidant | Engine in May 2017, and subsequently nominated for a Best of the Net 2017 award.
Very nice reading. I like hearing it – a reminder that poetry was meant to not only be read, but said aloud.
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My rule of thumb is if it doesn’t sound good, it isn’t good. 😀
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I have the same rule for writing in general – it’s all rhythm and pacing.
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I read aloud as I write – it helps me smooth out the rough edges. Stumbling over a word or phrase is a sure sign that something’s not quite right.
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That grief. . .
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It’s there for all of us…
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Your voice adds an extraordinary dimension to the beauty and pain of this poem!
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You are very generous. Thank you.
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Beautiful, Bob.
Looking for life when facing, seemingly surrounded by, death means going forward, the only real choice we have.
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It’s definitely my chosen direction!
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Sorry for your losses, thankful for your inspiration ❤
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Thanks very much, Steve.
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A beautiful tribute, not only to the individuals, but to the grieving process and the letting go.
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Thank you, Sarah. There’s something about grief’s gradual diminishment that somehow makes it seem precious.
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so heartbreaking…
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Thank you, V.J.
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This was a beautiful piece, thanks for sharing.
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Thank you!
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I love that you shared this on audio form. It gives the poem a poignancy to it that is masterful, Robert.
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Thank you, Tre. I’m so pleased you think so.
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You’re most welcome.
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Hauntingly beautiful.
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Thank you, Cyndi!
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Reblogged this on Walttriznastories's Blog and commented:
Dog lovers will understand.
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Thanks so much for reblogging this, Walt.
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wrenching
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Thanks very much, Maureen.
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Oh, it’s so hard to say goodbye, your poem did the job beautifully. So many great lines.
“so slowly, one star winking out after
another, till only the morning gray
hangs above us, solemn, indefinite.
Voiceless”
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Even practice doesn’t make it easier, Ivor. Goodbyes are difficult.
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Life wasn’t meant to be easy.
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I suppose not.
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Sad book wow, this is good! He read it very different than I did in my head though.
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Thanks very much. Isn’t it interesting how different poems can sound from person to person?
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It is very interesting, you’re right! I always encourage people to read my poems in their heads, so not out loud, because I feel like they sound better in there, but honestly, it is different for everybody.
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Poignantly beautiful, Bob and well/deserving of that nomination!🙏
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Thanks, Lynne. Workshopped at Truchas!
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I remember this poem. Painfully lovely.
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Those 30-30s sparked some decent work. I’m contemplating participating in another one, but they’re so time-consuming and exhausting…
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Pressure can do that, but you do need to pace yourself. Burnout can be disastrous.
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Yes, it is. Just writing thirty poems in thirty days is a bit tiring, but the fund-raising aspect is perhaps more tiring, if you take it seriously, as I do. That’s the real time sink!
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