| Poetry Aging & Loss |
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| Written &
copyright by John Good Graphic design by Mark Foshee |
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The Wanderer My grandmother Cressandra was clairvoyant, and would occasionally make predictions that turned out to be true. Seeing her teenage grandson admire himself in the mirror on one occasion she said, "One day you may see something in that mirror you don’t want to see." 60 years later, I know what she meant. |
| Listen to John's take on the
poem. Alternately The Wanderer. |
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I Lawr I Hyn (Down to This) No matter how expected, when grief rears its ugly head, the unawareness of the majority of people to your raging sadness, as they go about their everyday lives, seems almost callous. It can almost make you want to shout out, "Don’t you know what’s happened?" But of course, to come to grips with that grief will eventually mean rejoining that everyday majority, although as a permanently changed person. |
| Listen to John's take on the
poem. Alternately Down to This. |
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Shrovetide Fair I wrote this poem in the late 1990s. Even though poets tend to look back to imaginary golden days, they sometimes accidentally anticipate the future. Well, to tell the truth, the ancient bards of Wales were part wordsmith, part sear; they were expected to foresee whatever was to come, whether it was victory or defeat. In this case, with the present pandemic, I hate being clairvoyant. The Shrovetide Fair occurred right before Lent, when everyone atoned for their sins. Photos: (top) Olga Kononeko,
(bottom) Richard Beatson at Unsplash.com.
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| Listen to John's take on the
poem. Alternately Shrovetide Fair. |
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Seventeen Seasons I was born in Wales, lived in Hull, Yorkshire, London, Wales again, London again, Brighton England, San Francisco, L.A., Phoenix and Prescott Valley Arizona. So, I think of myself as a traveler, even when settling in one or another place for considerable periods. Romantically inclined, like many of my country folk, I often imagine myself as having been on board ship, with all the vagaries, hazards and exotica that that entails. Also, like my fellow travelers and compatriots, looking back over the swirling waters of a lifetime’s passage is both edifying and essential in fixing my current position on this vast ocean we call being. Regrets? Yes, some. Would I do it again? When do we sail? |
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poem. Alternately Seventeen Seasons. |
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Blue Natural Perhaps the greatest preoccupation of versifiers down the windblown ages is the passage of time. Like the wind itself, you can’t see it, but everyone sees and feels the effect it has. |
| Listen to John's take on the
poem. Alternately Blue Natural. |
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regulating the clock...
Timekeeper |
| Listen to John's take on the
poem. Alternately Timekeeper. You can read about my grandfather in Jack. |
the
maiden verbage...
The Girls of Summer |
| Listen to John's take on the
poem. Alternately The Girls of Summer. |
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