Kenneth Weene’s poem Pride apparently has nothing to do with marching through San Francisco in a parade I witnessed on June 28th. The pride on display there was rather gay, and the marchers lionized. Kenneth, I believe, refers to something a bit more bleak.
Pride
by Kenneth Weene
They gather again
driven by thirst and memory
pawing the dirt
grumbling growls
until the earth shakes
and drought cracked ground
coughs up a dry red dust.
They gather again
their plaint bitter against the heat
the sun un-listening
the night un-caring
the creeping desert blowing south
covering…uncovering bones of dead.
They gather again
fewer, desperate,
still the urge revives
even if the young perish
before they can savor breath
or suck their mothers’ dry teats.
And, at the end,
sand covered world
death colored world
silent blowing sand
they will no longer come
they will not gather again
About This Writer
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Thornton Sully has Jack-Londoned his way across the globe sleeping with whatever country would have him, and picking up stray stories along the way. A litter of dog-eared passports that have taken up residence in his sock drawer are a constant temptation, but, as the founder in 2009 of A Word with You Press, dedicated to helping you tell your story persuasively and with passion, it’s not likely he will stray too far from the towers that are A Word with You Press, now located in the Bohemian village of Ceske Budejovice in the Czech Republic, except, perhaps, for an occasional swim in the Aegean. Authors who have sought his advice have won major awards, including the Pulitzer Prize, the Isabel Allende Miraposa Award for new fiction, and the Best Poetry Award from San Diego Writers’ Awards.
“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” Thornton Sully, plagiarizing E.B. White
“Pride” is a brilliant perfection of meter, phrases turned and economy-cut to the dry bones of the reality that death is more powerful than even the will to survive.
I would be lion to tell you differently which my pride would never allow.
Kenneth Weene, an author comfortable in both worlds: poetry and prose. I enjoyed this one. Poignant!
I liked it, especially the bleak line about the wind’s ‘covering…uncovering’. Bleak. That’s what I took from the story. It’s quite good.
On the down side, no offense, I gotta tell ya, without the lion pic I wouldn’t have thought this story was about lions.
I seriously doubt that the poem was as much about lions as it is about all of the living with the constant reminder of birth, life and death, but only the poet knows.
You got it. Thanks for recognizing that double intent.
Like this. Very descriptive.
This is not prophesy, this is real time reality. I am thrilled by the perception.
This poem has layers and double meanings, which is always interesting. When you mention uncovering bones of the dead, I think of elephants, who have been found to mourn over bones. I didn’t realize lions did this. The drought imagery goes beyond Africa to the climate change situation, so for anyone concerned about the current state of nature, this is a fitting poem!
This is a powerful piece. It walks with a good cadence, and then turns with noble steps through the images and phrasing. My fave lines:
the creeping desert blowing south
covering…uncovering bones of dead.
Not that death (or life for that matter) is uncaring, but that it just *is*, and doesn’t defer to its dance partner, no matter how intimate the joining. Beautiful man. For real.