HOLDEN
The hospital room was too white,
you never liked white
so I filled it with balloons and flowers and
photos from our home,
with clothing you wouldn’t need
and a painting we’d bought in New Orleans,
the cats of Jackson Square
holding vigil from the corner.
Your sister said the apartment must be quiet with just me,
that I must be relieved
to not have the burden,
that I could have your larger bedroom
if I chose to stay.
The doctor gave you, at best,
two days,
the time it took for us to fall in love. You liked to say
God pushed us off the cliff together,
the only one I knew
who made Catholicism
guiltless.
The priest due soon, your mother
told me to say goodbye,
that she’d like your family with you in the end.
I wanted to ask her
where she was at three in the morning,
who changed the wet sheets,
who held your head in your sickness,
who brushed your hair away from your eyes
and read you stories you memorized as a child?
In my numbness
I leaned down and in front of your father
kissed you full on the lips,
determined not to let you
go over this edge alone.
© Bryan Borland
Whew… what a moment. Bless your heart!
Wayne
May 11, 2009 at 10:55 am
Thank you, Wayne. You comments are always so warm and comforting. This poem moved me as I wrote it. These people, this couple, came alive as I was writing. I said to a friend recently that the best poems are never hard to write. If a poem is difficult to write, something’s forced and it’s wrong. This poem came naturally and those are usually my personal favorites, this one no exception.
poeticgrin
May 11, 2009 at 12:56 pm
This is quite the powerful poem. Again, I am amazed at the emotion you share with the world. It’s a beautiful talent.
It is amazing how emotionally wrapped up someone can get by simply reading text on a screen.
The Covert Homo
May 11, 2009 at 11:57 am
*blushing* awww hush
poeticgrin
May 11, 2009 at 12:57 pm
Wow. Have you published much of your poetry? I’d love to get a chunky wad of it & curl up on a stormy afternoon!
Maxine Clarke
May 11, 2009 at 12:21 pm
Maxine,
I’m currently in the process of submitting my poetry to be published and smack dab in the middle of a “to blog or not to blog my poetry” internal struggle. Most of the time I end up wanting to post here because I feel like more people have access to the poems on this blog, but hopefully some of my work will find its way onto shelves before too long. Thank you so much for visiting and for commenting. Can’t wait to check out your website, too!
poeticgrin
May 11, 2009 at 1:00 pm
A lovely poem, Bryan.
scribulus
May 11, 2009 at 1:18 pm
Thanks scribby!
poeticgrin
May 12, 2009 at 8:25 am
You are a bard.
Val
May 11, 2009 at 2:03 pm
I am serious about calling Mr. Wheaton, Val.
In my younger days I was quite the stalker.
poeticgrin
May 12, 2009 at 8:25 am
“the only one I knew
who made Catholicism
guiltless”
That is so beautiful, and so sad.
As we’ve discussed elsewhere, I love such short and quoteable lines, so sparse yet pointed. You can cram more relateability and wisdom into one sentence than I could in a whole book. Thus, a whole book of your poems would be better than anything.
Also, I believe internal struggles can be a good thing, but I truly, madly, deeply hope that you will continue to post your work.
I need it.
queerlefty
May 11, 2009 at 3:56 pm
Oh, don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere. This blog has changed my life – for the better. I look at how my writing has evolved since August… there’s no doubt “writing for an audience” has made me a better poet. I push myself. I keep writing so I can keep posting. Friendships have been built. I literally feel like if I traveled around the world I’d have about 25 places to crash.
poeticgrin
May 11, 2009 at 5:55 pm
You could crash at my place anytime:)
queerlefty
May 11, 2009 at 6:09 pm
So glad you’re sharing with us. This one stirred so much in me, (she says, as if some don’t.)
judy
May 11, 2009 at 4:31 pm
Judy,
I aim to shake, not stir.
(KIDDING! Thank you!)
poeticgrin
May 11, 2009 at 5:56 pm
I have run out of compliments for your beautiful balanced, perfectly phrased and touching poetry, Bryan.
(p.s. If you’re ever in Australia,
Paul
May 11, 2009 at 5:59 pm
I know the feeling, Mr. Squires. What else can I say at Gingatao without sounding repetitive? Thanks, my friend.
poeticgrin
May 12, 2009 at 8:28 am
speechless, whatever that has been said, has been said.
well done!
cheers
benjaminchew110478
May 11, 2009 at 10:36 pm
Thanks for your help with this one, Ben!
poeticgrin
May 12, 2009 at 8:29 am
Bryan, this is excellent, really moving, congratulations. Almost made me cry (something like this happen to me, but it was a friendship story, not romantic).
I bet this is real, it happened.
mariana
May 12, 2009 at 1:20 am
Thank you Mariana.
poeticgrin
May 12, 2009 at 8:29 am
i agree with what you said earlyer on this comment line. Good poetry is not forced but overflown from the poet mind or soul or any name you give to it.
and your ability to identify with your character is what makes it so good, combine with those little lines that are holding great truth in just few words, for me that is what makes good poetry
Utopian Fragments
May 12, 2009 at 2:28 am
Thank you Utopian. I am lucky to have you as a reader and to be able to draw inspiration from your poetry as well.
poeticgrin
May 12, 2009 at 8:30 am
This makes me sad…which it should. The sad reflection of blue-gray eyes, the color of a storm.
This poem hits home for two reasons. The first, you can imagine, having lingered in the hospital with my aunt and knowing I will have to do it again. The second, in some ways, it is a painful “other end” of the spectrum for my aunt…family and friends were nowhere to be found. Both scenarios, being shut out as the ailing or the left-behind, leave me heavy-hearted.
medicatedlady
May 12, 2009 at 2:52 pm
“shut out as the ailing or the left behind” – - – shivers.
poeticgrin
May 12, 2009 at 5:56 pm
That is really beautiful … the others have said much of what I wanted to say, but my favorite passage was:
I wanted to ask her
where she was at three in the morning,
who changed the wet sheets,
who held your head in your sickness,
who brushed your hair away from your eyes
and read you stories you memorized as a child?
For me, this is the obligation that love takes on, and you express it so wonderfully.
ht
May 12, 2009 at 8:27 pm
ht,
“The obligation that love takes on” – what a beautiful way of putting it.
I want to invite the readers here to check out the awesome poem you posted recently:
http://wordswithnonames.wordpress.com/2009/05/10/for-those-that-come-tomorrow/
It really is one of my favorites, especially knowing the context in which you wrote it.
poeticgrin
May 13, 2009 at 12:07 pm
Touching.
I loved the attemp to transfare memory by filling the white space with sentimental objects.
“photos from our home,
with clothing you wouldn’t need…
and a painting we’d bought in New Orleans leaning
against the wall, the cats of Jackson Square
holding vigil from the corner.”
Great writing. Glad I found my way to your blog.
Devil Finch
May 13, 2009 at 8:04 am
Devil,
I am glad you found your way here, too. Thank you for commenting!
Bryan
poeticgrin
May 13, 2009 at 12:07 pm
Of course Bryan, if you carried a camera you would cease to be a stalker and become the evolution of obsessive: The paparazzi.
Val
May 13, 2009 at 10:43 am
I’d go for that if I could take a photo of anything other than my thumb. That’s why I need YOU with me! We could get one of those motorcycles with an attached cart and flit around Hollywood.
poeticgrin
May 13, 2009 at 12:08 pm
Please, Bryan. I don’t live in Hollywood. You and Val would be stalking me full-time…the only thing different about that scenario and how things currently are is that Val would be with you.
medicatedlady
May 13, 2009 at 1:06 pm
Okay, but if we flit around HTown,you’ve got to stop stalking Medicatedlady so she can join us in our quest for the one shot that will make us all millionaires: Donald Trump in the morning without his comb over molded firmly into place, canoodling Ms. Prejean in the buff.
valbrussell
May 13, 2009 at 2:53 pm
Yass!!!
bindo
May 13, 2009 at 11:15 pm
bindo, knowing that is your rebel yell of approval, I shall say THANK YOU in response.
poeticgrin
May 14, 2009 at 2:59 pm
A sentimental journey, Bryan.
Sweet sorrow prevailed, in spite
of the bitterness seeping forth
from the parents. You are right,
in the end. Determination
fosters hope. Good grief. UT
me2watson
May 14, 2009 at 4:41 am
“Good grief” is what this poem was, UT – you are right.
Thanks for the comment, as always.
poeticgrin
May 14, 2009 at 3:00 pm
Nice description of the thread of thought. It takes one minute to read the thread but it lasts only 3 seconds in your head.
In the modern version of the story Icarus tries to escape the earth and succeeds. I like this version much more than the original.
Lovely poem poetgrin
mariana
May 15, 2009 at 2:57 am
This poem confirms my deep desire to stop at the cemetary that I pass each day on the way home from work; to be anonymous, and simply wail. That sentence I just made is far too stilted, but there’s nothing artificial about the way this poem makes me feel, Bryan.
Brad
May 15, 2009 at 3:05 am
“to be anonymous, and simply wail.” Brad – I think you have perfectly summed up the devastation of grief.
Thank you for your words, friend. I am honored to make some feel through the written word and is why I write poetry.
poeticgrin
May 17, 2009 at 7:51 am
Wow, this made me cry. You are so eloquent with powerful emotions.
1writegirl
May 15, 2009 at 10:17 pm
Thank you 1writegirl. I appreciate you sharing and thank you for the compliment.
poeticgrin
May 17, 2009 at 7:53 am
Just something random: Something to do with Holden Caufield (the catcher in the rye main character). Somehow I can relate them.
mariana
May 16, 2009 at 4:34 pm
Yes – you’ve got it, Mariana. Very much related to Holden Caufield and also a play on the word “Hold” and the many meanings it could have within the context of this poem.
poeticgrin
May 17, 2009 at 7:52 am
I understand what you are going through with publishing on a blog v publishing elsewhere. I decided to pull mine because of sploggers and such and also because I might want to publish later on.
I am in love with this poem. I think it is the best thing I have ever read on a poetry blog. I love the imagery and what the poem conveys. Wonderful!
Carolina Maine
May 16, 2009 at 9:52 pm
There’s a fine line, for sure. Editors and publishers seem to not often care for poetry blogs because it cuts them out of the loop. That said, poets traditionally need editors and publishers to get to that next level, so the relationship is mutual and probably not unlike any love-hate romance.
As far as your comment as to this being the best thing you’ve ever read on a poetry blog…
I am just blown away (pause a literal huge gust of wind comes through my open window and sends my desktop papers and cats scattered). You *know* how much I respect you as a poet. You were one of the first that I came across online when I got serious about looking, and you seem the constant professional, the doer and not just the talker. You’ve wowed me with your writing and have introduced me to some awesome poets and writers. So to receive this comment from you is an amazing honor and I am thankful beyond anything I could say here.
poeticgrin
May 17, 2009 at 7:58 am
[...] Maine I have, in the past, highlighed poems on other blogs that I have found to be outstanding. “Holden” by Bryan Borland. Check it out when you have the [...]
Highlighted Poem « Poet Verse
May 16, 2009 at 9:58 pm
[...] It floored me… Holden. [...]
The Poetry Corner 2nd Edition Volume 5 « Brainstew – impressions personafied
May 26, 2009 at 6:55 pm
I LIKEY!
The Fabulous Miss Brown
May 29, 2009 at 3:40 pm
Thank you O’ Fabulous One!
poeticgrin
May 30, 2009 at 11:17 am
So I’ve read this like a zillion times now, made my mother read it too… to this day I’m still out of words, hence having never commented on it. So allow me — in the hope that you take this in the best way possible — to simply say, Whew! (wiping sweat off my forehead)
There will be many more returns.
bomi
June 22, 2009 at 12:10 pm