Landscape Painting by Willem Vester ‘Hope’ and Other Poetry by Neil Dachstadter The Society April 22, 2017 Beauty, Poetry 7 Comments Hope What task be done, you thought was not? What asked and sought, forgot, was wrought? What strain was set against a blow? As gain unfettered, bettered, lo, The frost was last before the sun; What once was lost recast as won. The Moment “And I knew just as surely, and just as clearly, that life is not a work of art, and that the moment could not last.” -Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It The moment that could never last, It fomented, to sever fast, Crafted thus, as ever hast Been. Dormant though; it did not die, Somnolent, sweeping, low to fly, And as a dream that touches morn, Again to gleam, and much reborn. All the People Where do all the people go? Here and there, they ebb and flow, What do all the people say? As they hurry on their way, What do all the people think? As they eat and as they drink, Likely much the same as me; Striking such resemblance be. Photo by Clayton Samuel Trette Neal Dachstadter is a poet living in Tennessee. His work has been printed in Decanto Poetry Magazine (UK), Western Viewpoints and Poetic Images: the Great American West (Woodinville, Washington), Society of Classical Poets Journal 2015 (Mt Hope, New York), Rocky Point Times (Puerto Peñasco, Mexico) and The Lyric (Jericho, Vermont). A member of the Demosthenian Literary Society at the University of Georgia, he deployed to Hawija, then wrote on Lookout Mountain, continuing with Delta Kappa Epsilon International. Berkeley, Ann Arbor, and Athens encouraged him as a writer. In 2015 he wrote in Arizona at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument five miles north of Mexico. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 7 Responses Dona Fox April 22, 2017 I enjoyed these poems so much I couldn’t stop reading them. Thank you. Reply Neal April 22, 2017 You have brought a great smile to my face Dona; thank you. Reply Christine Tabaka April 22, 2017 Marvelous! Reply Neal April 22, 2017 Thanks much, Christine – difficult not to be so with images such as these. Reply Neal April 25, 2017 the first memory of good form I recall was the quick sound of the heel of my mother’s shoe clicking on the wood floor…”We’re going to the Cotillion.” I was 4 and didn’t know what a cotillion even was, or that waiters also wore tuxedos, like my father. I was “impressed,” meaning that I was imprinted (italics) with an outline of good form. Reply Wendy Bourke April 28, 2017 Insightful pieces, rendered with an insightful clarity … a pleasure to read. Reply Neal December 19, 2017 Thank you Wendy; I am glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and saying so. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.