WE ALWAYS REJECT THE GOOD (A CHRISTMAS POEM)

image,

You seriously think it’s the bad you’re deflecting

And that you never find the good you’re expecting,

But if the world and yourself were truly understood,

Surprise—you spend your life rejecting the good.

You think in a moment when you should ponder for an hour,

Losing beauty because you do not plan,

You seek out the sweet whose result is sour,

You miss the good woman, you choose the wrong man.

The light pours in and you shut it out,

The world is endlessly beautiful, but you see it not.

You thought you were sensitive, but look! you’re a lout.

Too late! Good was here! Now you hate yourself a lot.

Too late! Too late! You never understood:

It was you that was bad. And the whole world was good.

 

 

 

 

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8 Comments

  1. mpvmuthu said,

    December 14, 2015 at 6:51 am

    Most probably Amen!

  2. maryangeladouglas said,

    December 14, 2015 at 1:41 pm

    Some of your poems seem more like diary entries or jottings which cohere in the diary keeper’s mind though not in the poem. I don’t see anything flawed in this. Cocteau made films out of this (I’m thinking of Orpheus). In other poems suddenly (by contrast with the jotted poems) the strings on the lute are tightened, there is that feeling and the poem coheres. I’m just stating a different musical quality perceived in the two types of poems I see, not judging either one. This seems one of the poems that coheres.

  3. maryangeladouglas said,

    December 14, 2015 at 2:32 pm

    “The world is endlessly beautiful but you see it not” is something I could think about the whole of the New Year and at the same time the beautiful compulsion that drove the Romantic poets, at least, I think so!

    Here’s my Christmas paen to snow which probably no one in the Boston area wants to be remined of considering what happened last winter but I’m in love with snow as much as I’m in love with God so it can’t be helped. Merry early Christmas to one and all, a Christmas poem as well.

    SNOW CAROL CAROLED, STARS WITHIN

    [for Christ on His birthday-

    and for George Herbert and Henry Vaughn…
    poets of blessed memory]

    love falls away as from the skies
    the pearls of former loveliness reprised
    return to glaze the dreaming ground

    and glide soft stars so all around.
    so all around I want to be where
    love in crystal surety sings undefiled

    and all, for me!

    the Mystery

    That love is falling from the skies
    and we who grew so worldly wise
    beyond the din can feel within

    the lovely loveliness of God our Friend
    that now so gently does descend
    our brokenness this way to mend.

    mary angela douglas 14 december 2015

  4. maryangeladouglas said,

    December 14, 2015 at 2:37 pm

    oh well, paean. and reminded. though snow is something I have ‘remined’ a lot, poetically speaking, over time. I have jillions of snow poems, most written in summer.

    • thomasbrady said,

      December 14, 2015 at 3:40 pm

      “most written in summer.” LOL

      Mary, I agree. The cohering rhythm of this poem drives its singular point home in such a manner that its “truth” punches you in the gut. One of my best, I think. Profoundly spiritual, without having to bring in “God” or any of the usual overt spiritual references—there is only “you” and the “world” and the “truth” of what everyone, somewhere, at sometime, feels—or never does. I’m humbly proud of this one.

      Don’t worry about typos. In this day and age, everyone now reads so fast, that 99% of typos simply go unnoticed. I know you can spell!”

      “the pearls of former loveliness reprised…[upon] the dreaming ground” Nice!!

      • maryangeladouglas said,

        December 14, 2015 at 4:12 pm

        Thomas, it’s my personal opinion that God, while perhaps cherishing the inner motivation of the believer-poet who overzealously sprinkles His name throughout does not want His name plastered all over the place being a rather mysterious Person. God can be inferred. We are not in control of the inference though I think. It just happens. Some people call this inference, miracles. This is why so many of His clouds remain unsigned. P.S. That photo you took of the lake posted earlier (at least, I think you photographed it) was stunning. Over Christmas I’m going to listen to a lot of your songs which I always enjoy as if I were listening to a kind of informal music workshop, toolshop of sorts. That’s the plan anyway. You know the saying: Man proposes and (inferred Person) disposes…

        And I am NOT saying that you inferred God at all in your poem. However from my POV unbeknownst to you He still could have shown up and I do hope I’m not making Him sound obnoxious. I just think He’s interesting. I don’t really think He enjoys fanfare which a lot of church organists would probably be surprised at. My grandmother wsa a church organist (and piano teacher). She only played Bach. I thought it went well at the time.

        • thomasbrady said,

          December 14, 2015 at 4:56 pm

          I think that one can infer that “it was you that was bad” is a great humbling before God. I have no problem with that meaning.

          Yes, I did snap that photo on my morning commute, the protected swampland from the train window traveling from Salem to Boston.

  5. maryangeladouglas said,

    December 14, 2015 at 5:48 pm

    Thanks for explaining the inference and the humility. I often feel I am missing the beauty, often, often. I value your poem deeply because it reminded me of this (BOTH the beauty and the forgetting) for which I am truly sorry before God. I also meant to say I loved your rock and tree photos on FB which I have signed up to see using only my first two names being totally unable to reenter the boggy (for me) land of FB once more enitrely. Somehow FB is letting me do this without my adding any friends, or profile info. ZIP Nada. Although sending me friendly reminders now and then to fill everything out. FB is puzzled. But I am free.


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