Sandy Livingston
Ode to James
I threw that knife away; it seemed to threaten me
I know it was inanimate but it brought back memories
It happens to be the twin of the one I took to Jim
To peel and slice his fruit, it makes me think of him
You see he lost the knife I’d taken to him before
So next time I got two in case he needed more
You wonder who’s this Jim, his first name’s really James
Because it’s just so painful I’ve lost his other names
James was a past co-worker with whom I’d lost touch
Until my daughter called long distance that he needed friends and such
I called him in the hospital and when he talked to me
No doubt was in my mind—alright I knew he’d be
When I had gone to see him I called her that they’d lied
They’d said he was all gray and anorexic besides
His hair was always gray mixed in with the black
And though he’d lost some weight he soon could gain that back
He said he had infection in his mouth deep in the gums
We both thought this was minor our faith was blind and dumb
So I went out shopping bought vitamins he’d need
And fruit with knives to peel it so back to health he’d speed
But neither of us reckoned that he was so very sick
We didn’t know his illness could bring him down so quick
The next time three weeks later I brought him some more stuff
The new knife was included but James was in a huff
He was mad that he had cancer quite firmly diagnosed
He’d signed for radiation with which he’d just been dosed
I looked at him with sorrow saw red marks on his cheek
He now was anorexic and he could hardly speak
He walked round his room an IV in his arm
He said the radiation he hoped would do no harm
One eye was dull and staring now he was partly blind
I gave him my red glasses I wanted to be kind
I hoped that they might help him but deep inside I rued
That he might need a miracle to make his eyes renewed
But I held on to my faith as I left him standing tall
This guy’s a real tough fighter he might refuse death’s call
I learned a few days later he was confined to his bed
I felt that was an error he should be up instead
I couldn’t return to see him no visitors were allowed
His private nurse reported he couldn’t speak out loud
He sank down low each day but she was impressed with him
Cause anyone who called he said “Say thanks to them”
Yes, James was kind and thoughtful sometimes said words quite keen
And sometimes he was cranky but never never mean
His peers at Paramount liked him despite some spats and such
They knew within his heart he craved their love so much
He died one Monday morning around eight forty-five
Of AIDS that dreaded scourge from which few stayed alive
I couldn’t cry then about him the pain was too intense
I’ve thought of life without him and pondered ever since
Had James been given to us to touch our lives and such
Then leave us pleasant memories of one we liked so much
Cause he could be so funny so charming and genteel
No matter whom he dealt with they knew James was for real
So all who knew James’s spirit when he was put to test
Will hope that since he’s left us his soul will be at rest
He shouldn’t have had to suffer but in 1983
AIDS only offered pain and death for all to see
It seemed so quick and shocking some cried for quite awhile
But let’s be glad we knew him and think of James and smile
Sandy Livingston did not provide a bio. She states, “The poem is rather self-explanatory. The pain is still with me. It is a sampling of my attempts to make some sense of it all when at that time James was but one of many who left us so quickly.”
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Here is today’s prompt
(optional as always)
Write a poem using rhyme. America’s poetic grandma, Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) used rhyme, but our poetic grandpa, Walt Whitman (1819–1892), pioneered free verse, and over time, rhyme became increasingly unfashionable (except in the case of fixed rhyming forms like the triolet, the villanelle, and the sonnet) and associated with doggerel (comic verse such as that written by Calvin Trillin). Nevertheless, rhyme remains a valid poetic technique, and every poet should at least experiment with rhyme at some point in their development.
Editor’s Note: Rhyme is often associated with meter—that is, a fixed rhythmic pattern, usually of stressed and unstressed syllables. While this is not the place for a full account of meter, I want at least briefly to discuss the rhythm of today’s poem. Today’s poem uses a six-beat line; that is, each line has six stressed syllables. The poet uses a variety of metrical feet (combinations of stressed and unstressed syllables) within this basic six-beat pattern. The most basic pattern in today’s poem is iambic hexameter (six iambs—an iamb being an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable; e.g., “I threw” and “that knife” and “away” in line 1 of today’s poem). Most of these iambic hexameter lines have a strong medial caesura (medial=in the middle of the line; caesura is a pause); again, using line 1 as an example: “I threw / that knife / away; // it seemed / to threa /ten me.” In line 2, however, in place of the third iamb in the first half of the line, we find the word “inanimate,” made up of three unstressed syllables followed by a stressed syllable—a pattern that goes by the unwieldy name quartus paeon in classical Greek and Latin metrical terminology. No need to fret too much about all of this metrical mumbo jumbo. You can read all about it on various websites and in numerous books. For now, just follow your instincts and have fun.