.
[with 3 poems by David Radavich]
.
Offering
From one day
to the next
seems a difference
.
between drought
and flood,
.
corporations
and the poor.
.
Should we pack
our suitcase
for the future?
.
We bend over
gardenias
in the back yard,
.
salvia, rosemary,
daylilies jut now
blazing
.
wondering if nature
can withstand
our age,
.
sun fighting
with wind and rain,
.
wars consuming
everything
.
we believe.
.
Time to visit
the cemetery, bring
.
the pure lilies
we picked
this morning
.
as our offering
to the dead,
.
We owe them
our knees
and this stab at
.
continuing
.
paying homage
to names
.
and all
that’s green.
.
David Radavich
from Here’s Plenty, Červená Barva Press, W. Somerville, MA; © 2023
.
❦ ❦ ❦
.
“These are monsters migrating.” Thus the boy explains the drawing he’s brought home from kindergarten. Three big ones fly south, dragon-winged, pterodactylloid, gallinaceous. A mighty bruiser gallops on great feet bound to raise dust and thunder, heavy tail thrashing. But here’s one down in the corner foreground, not imposing, non-scary, looking me straight in the eye. Most monsters speed away, thank goodness, but some are willing to stay and make friends.
.
Monsters sneak into my head at 3 AM when I return from the bathroom. In the old days, before I retired from medicine, they called me from the ICU or Labor & Delivery and I knew it was time to pull up my pants and find the car keys. Now they spring up when I call them – damn! – and poke me with their spines and cold stiff claws each time my breath attempts to settle. Does anyone escape? Doesn’t everyone with parent, child, grandchild harbor a squirm of worry underneath the bed, ready to pop awake and crawl up between the sheets?
.
Monsters seem to be drawn to the idle mind like migrating bats to open, dark caverns. Their scales and markings may vary but they all belong to Class, Order, and Family of What If? Once their migration might have lasted just hours – what if I can’t get his blood pressure up? what if her baby’s head is transverse? – but now they don’t seem to have any finite lifespan. The infinite multiverse fans out from its monstrous 3 AM nidus into a crashing storm of uncertainty. Calm yourself. Smooth those waves of rapid breathing. Wrap the turbulence and darkness until they become a comforting cloak. What . . .
.
. . . if you sit down with me here and tell me about these monsters? The boy has a name for each one. He knows their powers and their weaknesses. Far from being fearful, these are friends, some to each other and all of them to him. You wouldn’t want to sit on one – they’re sharp, and they might break! – but it’s amazing to watch them fly and run. In fact, they are all related to each other. They are monster family.
.
.
❦ ❦ ❦
.
Crux
for Shelby
.
This is where
boy meets man:
.
a space
always alone
.
between
water and land,
.
fishing
or hiking,
.
gathering crayfish,
skipping stones,
.
another boss
is another tyrant,
.
pay not enough
to make ends meet,
.
mouths to feed
at the table,
.
gills in the water
needing your lure
.
and just the right
throw to home
.
sliding in
or head-long,
.
swinging high over
that creek
.
never knowing
if the vine will hold,
.
that’s what being
adult means:
.
learning
not to trust,
.
pulling everything
you’ve got,
.
keeping a sharp eye on
what’s moving
.
and then
grab it for grace,
.
feed that family
and don’t apologize.
.
David Radavich
from Here’s Plenty, Červená Barva Press, W. Somerville, MA; © 2023
.
❦ ❦ ❦
.
What if my name, instead of “Bill,” were “Boy?” What is the thing against the idea of the thing? And words on a page, are they the one or are they the other? David Radavich, in Here’s Plenty, doesn’t open his palm and hold out to you the answer to such queries, but he leaves plenty of answers scattered among the lilies or still hanging from branches, reddening fruit for us readers to discover. Can the idea of a thing become itself when we bite into it, when we take it into ourselves?
.
This is one task and one blessing of poetry – not to be a textbook, lining out chapter and verse; not to be gospel; but to be spell, cast into the world and opening like the petalled layers of a peony. Perhaps we return day by day to discover its transformation, perhaps we grab and thrust our nose deep into the blossom’s perfume and scatter petals all around us. Either way we engage, yes with the words but even more so with ourselves. The real poetry is what we write within while reading what is without.
.
David Radavich lives in the world. So apples, seed and stem, peel and core and crisp. Edens and crags. Harsh sharp divisions and tender comings together. Nothing ignored or unnoticed, nothing left out. Everything invited in. You and me, too. Come – there’s plenty.
.
❦
.
Here’s Plenty is David Radavich’s tenth collection of poetry. He has also published many plays as well as scholarly and informal essays in many countries. The book is available HERE
.
.
❦ ❦ ❦
.
Going Home
.
Forget about it.
.
The old one wasn’t
worth much
anyway.
.
You can do better
tossing a coin
or consulting
some astrologer.
.
Choose
where or what
you want to be
.
and go there
to take your place
among the yet
to arrive.
.
Wave your white
flag to the past
.
and make your new
garden bloom
.
as if
you had been
.
there all along
incognito
.
among many
creatures
you don’t know
names for,
.
your enemies
forgotten
.
and a sky
just as much
your own
.
as a new skin.
.
David Radavich
from Here’s Plenty, Červená Barva Press, W. Somerville, MA; © 2023
.
.
❦ ❦ ❦
.
.
V E R S E and I M A G E 
What beautiful poems! Such rhythmic language and elicit metaphors. Love the way each poem is presented on the page. Congrats to David.
LikeLike
Thanks for stopping by on a blustery day, Sam. I drove by your street this morning on my way to visit assisted living facilities as possible options for my parents. —
LikeLike
David’s poems are lovely lyrics, and your thoughts and observations, Bill, are as engaging as ever. But it’s the purple monsters that have my heart in this post.
LikeLike
Hey Dear Friend, thanks for the sweet comments. Bert showed no interest in coloring until suddenly in Kindergarten he can’t get enough. —B
LikeLike
[…] Go figure. . Additional poetry by David Radavich at Verse and Image: April, 2025 April, 2024 January, 2024 October, 2023 April, 2023 April, 2022 April, 2021 [April every year? David always contributes to […]
LikeLike