For Sam (ST Coleridge)

Damn Sam!

No man was ever yet a great poet,
without being at the same time a profound philosopher.
For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance
of all human knowledge,
human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language.

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge

 

Today I fathom only the shallows

slippery eels, here no profound fishes of wisdom

philosophies only of compost

and the odd croaker warning of frost tonight

 

This cold April wind has my petals closed

how can the cold heart bloom?

Rain and wind have stripped me

no incense-bearing tree am I

 

What knowledge is true, Sam?

We’ve proven even absolutes are not

absolute. And passion has no commerce

save the brothels in their shallow way

 

I’ve yet to find a gas vendor, Sam,

who trades his petrol for a savory smile,

a sincere word of gratitude, or even

a gratuitous verse on spring and passion

 

So, today, Sam, you’re judging me

inadequate—not for lack of craft,

but on the depth of my shallow clutch

on tenuous life this particular day.

David M Pitchford
28 April 2008