A Ballad in Three Parts: The Single Minded Gatekeeper (III)

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Part III

Here I was, with my poet and his silence and his poetry

And all I could think of being was consumingly angry!

“So it was you all the time, what a mean trick to play,

You subjected me to some weird, arbitrary contest,

The very idea of which I frankly abhorred and still detest,

You said you didn’t live here, you lied to keep me away.”

His smile wavered not a bit, his eyes remained gentle,

“To love silence one must rise above being judgemental.

Be patient even when baffled and blinded by disappointment.

Now look inside and tell me, even though arbitrary,

If the so-called contest didn’t help you find your poetry,

If it hasn’t taught you better how to remain silent. ”

“A one-line poem is as close as you can get verbally

To silence. Reaching the destination finally

Is surely less important than feeling the journey?

Anywhere you feel like stepping off can become the end,

But not to feel the topography – the bank and the bend,

Not to stumble over stones, now that’s a loss of poetry.

“Since your last visit, I’ve heard that you told the committee

It was your life they were reading, and that was your poetry.

That’s what it is you know, for all of us, not just you.

We each have to tease out and unravel the knotted strands

Of poetry woven into our lives, with our own bleeding hands.

You’ve got to admit that’s what the test has made you do.”

Before his calm manner both my anger and my eyes fell,

“It doesn’t seem fair to me on your part, to compel

Poetry out of someone when you didn’t know her intent.

For all you knew I could have been a simple fan

Out for an autograph or some other innocuous plan.

I mayn’t have wanted to unravel poetry, or even to be silent.”

“The present question is whether or not you will allow

Our past differences to stand in the way of our time together now,”

He hadn’t let go of my hand but he also made no apology.

“For someone who defines poetry as listening to silence

You seem to talk rather a lot on things of great insignificance.

Just accept the past and be done, you are you and I am me.”

Well, what was I to do? It just seemed rather childish

To turn away in peevish anger when I had got my dearest wish,

Even if the process of getting it had been somewhat tortuous,

And paved with what now felt like a mild form of deceit.

Can deceit be graded? Is one allowed sometimes to cheat,

And go on admiring a person whose methods turn out dubious?

To tell the entire truth, I myself wasn’t completely clean

I had devised a strategy that could very easily be seen

As bending the rules - a thousand one liners for just one.

He had let me bend them, he had called the committee

And even they hadn’t found that one sparkling line of poetry –

My skills hadn’t won the contest when all was said and done.

So I let this painful subject drop, though on greater analysis

Maybe a couple turns more of grace wouldn’t have come amiss.

But then the brand of cluelessness that I seem to possess

Or maybe it possesses me, who can say for certain?

What I do know is that it is paired quite often

With an ineptitude that’s breath taking in its clumsiness.

We spent that one day together, my gatekeeper-poet and I

I clutched too long at some moments, letting others trickle by.

We walked together, the sands of time ran loose between my toes.

The silence played its song and draped it over my mind

I gave up the need for other sounds, of words of any kind.

The quiet filled up each cell in my soul, its dips and turns and furrows.

With silence came unaccustomed rest, unfamiliar stillness

A heady love for loneliness that’s otherwise hard to access

The silence whispered out for me how easy it is to believe

And shape lives around stereotypes, fritter time away in clichés.

That one day brought to a point all my wasted days.

The sun sank into a drunken fit of colours, it was time to leave.

Many decades passed, I grew older with his splendid quiet

Stirred into my scratched soul by my gatekeeper-poet.

“I hope that is enough silence, and you’ve got enough spine?”

He’d said to me long ago as we’d said our goodbyes.

I’ve often remembered and replayed that twinkle in his eyes,

As I keep searching down these years for my final single line.

~~~~~~~

Nilanjana Bose

About the Author :

Passionate about words, I have written and published a collection of short Bengali fiction, and am working on my second book. I have weird ways of measuring my life out in word counts and pages. I believe books, not clothes, maketh men, and women.Read my stuff here and then come find me at "Madly-in-Verse".

5 comments so far..What are your thoughts?

Andy DavidMarch 22, 2012 8:49 AM
Hello.
Well done to you! The gatekeeper being the poet...how charming. Thoroughly enjoyed reading this. Thanks for sharing.
RaJ BaRnWaLMarch 22, 2012 12:14 PM
...enjoyed the whole journey a lot,mam....beautiful lines..."i hope that is enough silence,and you've got enough spine?"...
Nilanjana BoseMarch 26, 2012 2:49 PM
Thank you for reading and your support, Andy David and RaJ BaRnWaL. Pleased that you enjoyed the ballad.
prima DonnaMay 26, 2012 7:58 PM
I knew it.. :) and the parade of proses completely paid off, it was beautiful. thank you for putting this up. :)
and I hope you find your final single line. :)
Nilanjana BoseJune 03, 2012 9:15 PM
Thank you, prima Donna! Glad you enjoyed it....and thanks also for your wishes re the final single line, but only a very lucky few people ever get to find that ;-)