1923 and THE THEME THAT DEVASTATES

Perhaps one has to have the "soul of a poet" to understand this theme. But it is certainly a theme that has inspired within me poetry. A visit to any cemetery can make one wonder about all the lives of those buried there; all the layered stories that were lived and then "washed away." 

At every grave, for every headstone... there is a name that lived 1000 stories: 1000 adventures filled with happiness and sadness. And with the passing of time, as memories fade and the stories stop being told, nothing remains.  

I adored the series 1923. I will not review the epic ride within the episodes, but I will say that the ending is devastating. It left me filled with grief... for characters that were not even real. Heartbreak comes in many forms. The feeling of despair because of this form of despondency is a heartsickness that is a nasty beast. 

LIMERENCE

Why am I feeling all this great emotion?

Perhaps I am thinking of poor Mary,

Moving away after so long living

In a quietly familiar and convenient place.

Mary, audibly rocking and rocking in the

Same chair above me as she aged into invisibility…

And soon I too will leave this same place.

For how long did I live with illusions,

Locking away all transitory possibilities

And realities and choosing instead to

Dwell inside mercurial fantasies and

Interior delusions and then grounding a still life?

Now the fading obstacles hardly matter.

The grey heavy details carved and set in stones

Have been kicked away by newer shades

Of sharp pastels that do not even belong

To me in my particular smallness.

Fog is moving in from the Hudson River,

Passing over yesterday and all the

Layered stories and everything

That came… before.

© 2024 Marjorie J. Levine in 

BECOMING UNTIL

BECOMING UNTIL is Marjorie J. Levine’s latest collection of poetry and is a bookend to her critically acclaimed debut poetry book, ROAD TRIPS. The bends in the road as life advances become mercurial passages and the moment comes when a life lived as one young with limitless possibilities becomes, just like that, an existence that settles into an almost tapered old age with many decades that recede into a personal past. In this collection of poems, the author creates a vision of her autumn years as defined by a time when she has been left behind but is slowly evolving and becoming until the time she joins again all the many in her journey who have fallen away. The anthology is structured into three distinct sections: HAIKUS, STREET POEMS, and MAGICAL THINKING, and culminates with her concluding piece, THE BEND IN THE HIGHWAY.

THE CHANGED VIEW

In 2014, the view at 2 plac Grzybowski, at the corner of Prozna Street in Warsaw Poland, was heartbreaking. The very very old buildings had windows and walls covered in photos of those who lived there and who were sent to concentration camps. 

I returned recently to see those buildings with those stunning and sad portraits were no longer there... and as is often the case, they were replaced with buildings of a more modern architecture. 

Old photos certainly do light a particular present and preserve a personal history. 

MY BLOCK IS AGAIN TODAY A MOVIE SET

ANOTHER THEN AND NOW

This is the east side corner of 7th Avenue and 19th Street, and the subway entrance that was there so long ago is still there and visible in both pictures. 

THE ANCESTORS FROM MINSK

 I celebrate my family tree... and look forward to the next family reunion. This photo was taken in about 1916... my father is the child sitting on the step between his two brothers and he is looking back at his aunt. 

A THEN AND NOW

This is a composed "then and now..." with WALKER TOWER in the distance, which at one time was New York Telephone:

THE SHADES OF CONTEMPLATION

“One by one they were all becoming shades. 

Better pass boldly into that other world, 

in the full glory of some passion, than fade 

and wither dismally with age.”

-- James Joyce, THE DEAD

HERE COMES THE BRIDE

 Steph and Herm

A LETTER OF APPRECIATION TO A TEACHER FROM A PARENT

 

ROAD TRIPS

THE REVIEWS ARE IN

 

THE VALLEY

REST IN PEACE... TOO MANY GONE TOO SOON

I lost too many. And not a day goes by that I do not remember all these friends who left me with huge empty spaces and no choice but to advance and move forward without them. I miss all of them.

Ellen and Bette, gone way too young. 

Nick... a sad loss. I miss his great musical talents.

Bernie, my BC! We sure had so many laughs together. There were so many inside jokes... I still have the letters you sent me... even the one from Diamond Head!

Betty O. you always were there for every show and I miss our great dinners at Zinno!

Annie B. you were a great comic and I was glad to call you a "friend."

Susan S.! We were colleagues for a decade. We were in Miami togther. You left too early. 

Marilyn K. you were my neighbor for 40 years... 

Rhea, Ellen and Eileen... cousins who I will always miss.

Phyllis! I think I miss you the most. It is hard to lose a friend I spoke to every day and who I knew since I was 10 years old.

Joan! We traveled together... to Charleston, San Antonio, and St. Louis. 

Rhoda... we met at a Frank Sinatra forum and then talked constantly about the good old days. 

Jack! OMG Jack! How many times did I visit you down at the Jersey Shore and then Red Bank? 

Frances! You were my morning phone call for ears. Rest in Peace, there was not a mean bone in your body.

Sue! I have so much regret. I should have done more. I think of you every day. I remember Los Angeles and all the laughs. Remember all those eggs benedict and Sunday in the Park With George?

Lou... we had a good secret.

Jerry... I know you loved me. You stayed in touch with me through 2 marriages. We met in Orlando... You were uch a sweet soul.

Roz.. my consiglieré. how did you pass so early?

And Nell.... my dear Nell. All the late night phone calls, all the conversations, losing you hit hard. 

And now my Rogeré.... I know you are in heaven talking "sense" to anybody who will listen. We spoke on Thursday and on Monday I got the call you passed on Saturday. I went into shock... 

There are others like Maxine and Gail and Ellen... 

Life seems empty without all my friends near me, friends who were in my life for decades. 

Will I ever see them again?

"His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead." --- James Joyce, THE DEAD

 

TWO TIMES TWO AND ONE