Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Servant's Dream





Servant's Dream

'his heart was in the Union and his soul was reaching out for the servant's dream...'
~Willis Alan Ramsey



He dreams the servant’s dream
who finds no master;
back strong to work, hands
 that reach to make 
and tend
unfilled.

She dreams the mother’s dream
who has no child; arms that
crook to cradle, to caress,
 voice that longs
to lullaby,
unwombed.

I dream the lover’s dream
who finds no love.
the spirit thirst to drink
 the cup, the heart 
 that pours to fill it,
unopened.

I  wait to dream the servant
and the mother and the lover
come together, dream that
hands soul heart and
voice someday rest 
complete, work
 done.



August 2011





'..And in between the tunes his friends would ask him
where he'd be when the the morning came
he said through his grin, I put my thumb in the wind,
 I'm off down the road again.
Just a boy from Oklahoma on an endless one night stand
wanderin' ramblin' driftin' with the midnight sand.
He played the blues and the ballads and all that comes between
his heart was in the Union and his soul was reaching out for the servant's dream.

..the ramblin man's riz and the Kingdom's his...

just a boy from Oklahoma
on an endless one night stand...'


Image: Boys From Oklahoma Say Goodbye, 1977, by joy ann jones



17 comments:

  1. Oh boy, you just wrote the poem I would so love to have written, had I still any active brain cells in the upper regions. "I dream the lover's dream who finds no love." Beautiful writing. Loved every line.

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  2. This just got better and better as I read through it. The second stanza brought tears. I love everything about this, Joy. The way you arranged it, the servant/mother/lover progression and the perfect ending. This is amazing.

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  3. PS--You know, sometimes it's just a damn privilege to read what you write. I've been meaning to say that to you in so many words.

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  4. @FB: You don't know how much I appreciate hearing that. Thank you.

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  5. Complete heart and soul and mind, work done....
    Well done Hedge.

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  6. nice...i like how you bring each of them together in that final stanza....unwombed makes a great centerpiece to this...i hope hands soul heart and voice come together as good as this did...smiles.

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  7. Thanks ayala and Tug. Appreciate your visits always.

    @bri: like the new avatar, my man. Thanks for always reading.

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  8. Joy,
    It is of a coming together of all of them. Servant, mother and lover in unison provide the good support!

    Hank

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  9. Perfect in the didactic pentameter, progressing through three thirds to the fourth summed whole. I get so strongly the sense of that completion that eclipses history, getting the heat of the heart of things that was there in the first place, that never needed actualization. (Actualization is for the foolish gambits of our youth, don't you think?) ... This morning I read in Gaston Bachelard's The Poetics of Space: " ...It is not until late in life that we really revere an image, when we discover that its roots plunge well beyond the history that is fixed in our memories. In the realm of absolute imagination, we remain young late in life. But we must lose our earthly Paradise in order actually to live in it, to experience it in the reality of its images, in the absolute sublimation that transcends all passion." Servant, mother, and lover all are tropes of heart, but getting to the heart inside those tropes means crossing the threshold of dream into the purity of moonlight (like tonight's) that simply and forever is. We grow up, I think, to enter that fullness, dying all the way, become free and freer to simply be. Fantastic poem Hedge. - Brendan (p.s. and from my screen to yours, back atcha.)

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  10. This aches. Just beautiful, Hedge.

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  11. Thanks annell, and Sherry,

    @B: Sounds like a book I need to read, as I agree wholeheartedly. Our perspectives alter in an almost chemical way with age--I'm not going to make the obvious comparison to wine, because I think the change is more profound and alchemical than that, from dust to mercury, perhaps. The beautiful full moon of last night shines on every endeavor, just waiting for us to look up, and to dance in the light. Thanks as always for reading and understanding.

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  12. Thanks MZ: Thought you might enjoy the Okie references as well. You see why your last line yesterday got to me.

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  13. Love the arrangement of this poem, favourite verse:

    She dreams the mother’s dream
    who has no child; arms that
    crook to cradle, to caress,
    voice that longs
    to lullaby,
    unwombed.

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  14. Each is like an offering bowl, hewn of your loving hand and full of poetic nourishment. I agree with FB it is a privilege to read. Verse 2 stabs close to my heart.

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  15. Someone stole my words before I could get here ... this just aches - poignant and beautiful. A wondrous poem.

    http://aleapingelephant.blogspot.com/2012/03/closest-to-edge.html

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg