.

Ruben

“We have words that speak of the ongoing presence
of such privations: orphan, widow, widower. And
perhaps the fact that we have no word for the
parent who has lost a child is itself a testimony to
the unspeakable abiding horror and pain of such a
circumstance.”

—Carl R. Trueman, “The Final Enemy”

He wore these clothes still hanging here on hangers,
One by one, supported by his shoulders.
Their sight now weighs on all our hearts like boulders.
The music many heard, played by his fingers
On this guitar, is soundless, though it lingers,
Reverberating grief. His memory smoulders
In sunlight in the spring and summer garden
Where his unspoken thoughts and silent questions
Were planted deeply – and where, now, suggestions
Of him are everywhere, drift through the yard in
Echoes that ring unheard from every flower
To secret places in our inner ears.
Their distant overtones bounce off his car
In dirges that disfigure every hour
Until we don’t know when or where we are
In time: each day fills with uncounted years,
And each year with a lifetime’s haunted tears.

.

.

Ozymandias’ Remains Speak

My head no longer buried in the sand
Of ego, able only to look up
From here, where time has left my half-sunk face,
At last I see the sky. When from the grand
High throne I saw my subjects from its top,
I thought I’d always rule the human race,
Delighting in my sneer of cold command
When looking down on them. I can’t erase
These lines from my expression now, because
My face is made of stone. It serves me right;
In life, my heart was hard as rock; my jaws
Were set like flint. My throne’s imposing height
Made me feel immortal. When I was
Alive, I cared for nothing but my might.
I hardly lifted my self-centered eyes
To see the sun’s sharp, equalizing ray.
I see it now—and see that nature’s laws
Are higher than my own, and much more wise.
And I can see, by piercing light of day,
What’s happened to the shattered realms stretched far away.

.

.

Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Michigan.  Her second collection of poems, Notes on Time, has recently been published by AuthorHouse, as was her first (2005) collection, These Holy Mysteries.  Her poems have also appeared in First Things, Modern Age, The North American Anglican, The Orchards Poetry Review, The Book of Common Praise hymnal, and elsewhere.

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32 Responses

  1. Paul Freeman

    A very emotive, well-wrought poem, ‘Ruben’. I should think everyone knows someone who went long before their time and you had to clear out their things.

    Love the take on Ozymandias. Civilisations come and go and nothing lasts forever. So best to be nice to people.

    Thanks for the reads, Cynthia.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      You’re so welcome, Paul, and thank you for your kind comments.

      Reply
  2. Roy Peterson

    The sense of loss in your poem, “Ruben,” captures the heart with its melancholy mood and caring words of remembrance. The perspective of the remains of Ozymandius speaking is well-conceived as a message to the living.

    Reply
  3. Jeremiah Johnson

    The lingering sound that still reverberates from the guitar strings, though Ruben’s ceased to play them – that’s a poignant, beautiful metaphor!

    And, throughout your poem, I like the references to sound and music.

    Thanks for sharing this one.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      I’m so glad you felt it as poignant, Jeremiah. Thank you.

      Reply
  4. Paul Buchheit

    “Ruben” is very emotional, heart-tugging, Cynthia. Thanks for sharing.

    Reply
  5. Brian A Yapko

    Cynthia, both of these poems are amazing. I also love “Ruben” which is filled with heartbreaking imagery and deep sincerity. It is very moving. The rhyme scheme is unusual — it has rigor in the sense that all lines rhyme somewhere, but there is a lack of predictability as to when the next rhyme will appear. I don’t know how conscious this decision was, and I don’t think this would work with every poem, but here it is absolutely right and absolutely brilliant. The sense I get is that, despite trying to hold things together (as in that stream of true couplets), grief has other plans and will pop up in the most unexpected place, anytime, anywhere. I love this poem.

    I also enjoyed your “Ozymandias” poem which carries echoes of Shelley’s sonnet but which you make your own with a poem in 20 lines, again all rhyming but with some interesting variations in the rhyme scheme. I am a big fan of first person narrative and you treat it well. I’m pleased to see that Ozymandias actually develops some self-awareness in the end (what is it that instigated this striking change?) and that he now rues his vainglorious, shallow values. I also like the sad, direct echo of Shelley in your final line.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      Thank you, Brian, I’m so glad you enjoyed them both. I don’t recall how consciously I planned the rhyme schemes, but I’m grateful you saw meaning in them. In the Ozymandius poem, it was Shelley’s image — “near them, on the sand, a shattered visage lies” — that gave me the idea. Thank you for your very thoughtful comments.

      Reply
  6. Jeff Eardley

    Cynthia, you have reduced this guitar player to tears with “Ruben.” I can never twang away in the garden again without thinking of your so emotive lines on the loss of a very special guy. Good to see Oxymandias getting his come-uppance. These are two great poems. Thank you.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      I’m very grateful to know they were so moving to you, Jeff. Thank you for commenting.

      Reply
  7. Isabel Scheltens

    What a poignant expression of the grief one feels at the death of a child. Well spoken.

    Reply
  8. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Cynthia, what a magnificent pair of poems that speak of death and how powerless we are in the face of the Grim Reaper. “Ruben” is written with sensitivity and sympathy and it speaks to me at a time when I have those around me who have lost loved ones far too soon. “Ozymandias’ Remains Speak” reminds me of a quote that says that goes something like, “we may differ in life but all equal in death”… it’s a humbling poem that puts life with all its earthly temptations in stark perspective when it comes to looking at the bigger picture. Cynthia, thank you!

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      You’re so welcome, Susan. I’m so glad that these were meaningful to you. Thank you for your encouragement.

      Reply
  9. Allegra Silberstein

    Thanks for your beautiful poems, Reuben was especially moving for me.

    Reply
  10. Cheryl Corey

    Cynthia, “Ruben” touches upon a difficult topic, which you treat with dignity. I think part of what makes it work is that you don’t say what caused Ruben’s death. This lack of specificity enables the poem’s subject matter to appeal to a wide audience. Any number of people can identify. I personally know a couple who lost their 20-something son and only child; the cause which they either don’t know or don’t wish to disclose, but I plan to print out your poem to share with them. Thank you for writing it.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      Thank you, Cheryl. I’m so glad if this poem can be of any comfort or encouragement, or perhaps catharsis, to others.

      Reply
  11. David Whippman

    I really liked “Ozymandias’ Remains Speak.” A clever sequel to the original Shelley poem. Nice thought that the once-mighty ruler is aware of his own ultimate insignificance.
    For me, the last line jarred a little as it’s too long; the rest of the poem is in iambic pentameters. Sorry if that sounds nitpicking. You could lose the word shattered, or have something like “the devastated realms stretch far away.” But anyway it’s your poem, and a good one too.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      Thank you, David. I thought that maybe the words “stretch far away” would be reinforced by the line stretching farther than the others. I’m glad you liked the poem.

      Reply
      • David Whippman

        I did indeed, and I understand your thinking re the extended last line.

  12. Joshua C. Frank

    Wow… these are really good, as usual.

    “Ruben” describes so well what it’s like to lose someone who lives with you. These lines are especially haunting: “The music many heard, played by his fingers/On this guitar, is soundless, though it lingers,/Reverberating grief.”

    “Ozymandias’ Remains Speak” is also really good. It describes so well how any earthly riches and honors fade away at death, as described in Scripture and poems like “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard.” I especially love the lines:

    I thought I’d always rule the human race,
    Delighting in my sneer of cold command
    When looking down on them. I can’t erase
    These lines from my expression now, because
    My face is made of stone.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      Thank you very much, Joshua, for your thoughtful comments. I’m glad the poems were meaningful to you.

      Reply
  13. Margaret Coats

    Cynthia, I agree with others about the emotional impact of “Ruben.” It compares well to Ben Jonson’s “On My First Son.” Jonson’s son was named “Benjamin” after his father, as we know from the poet addressing him as “son of my right hand,” the meaning of Hebrew “Benjamin.” I find it appropriate that “Ruben” has the syllable “ben” for “son,” and is as well the name of the patriarch Jacob’s first son, while “Benjamin” is the name of the last. I’ll keep your “Ruben” in mind along with Jonson’s famous poem.

    There is much to notice about the formal artistry of “Ruben.” Its appropriate design adds beauty and dignity to images and diction making this a home and family poem, as you indicate in line 3, where “all our hearts” reveals a first person plural speaker.

    The rhyme scheme is abbaabcddc efgegff. The first “a” rhyme is imperfect, which at once suits the tone of deep mourning, as does the irregularity of the scheme overall. But we see that by rhyme the poem falls into two parts with 10/7 proportion, not far from the 8/6 proportion of a standard sonnet. Even more interesting is that all lines in the first part have feminine endings, while those in the second are masculine. The transition rhyme word, “flower,” can be either feminine with two syllables or masculine with one. Thus the second part of the poem begins with uncertainty, as did the first, where we wondered when the exact rhyme for “hangers” would appear (it never did). “Flower” stands as a sonnet turn in this poem which is not a sonnet. The rhyming couplet at the poem’s end, however, again suggests an English sonnet. The choice of rhyme words for it (“ears,” “tears,” “years”) could not be more meaningful or more fitting.

    We see more feminine/masculine contrast that goes along with rhyme words, and touches on the mourning of mother and father, and other female and male members of the family. The feminine rhyme lines start with a consideration of clothes, which is often how women and girls describe a person. Among the masculine rhyme words is “car,” suited to the way men may identify someone by what he or she drives.

    Superb composition, Cynthia, whether everything I noticed was explicitly intentional or not.

    The Ozymandias characterization is, I would say, something that Shelley’s poem asks for. Your response is good, especially because most of it focuses on the face. I think the lengthened final line is necessarily longer, to get in the description of the realms seen as “shattered,” just as the statue was. This really opens up thought, going far from what we would imagine a haughty ancient ruler might feel if resurrected. It brings contemplation of world history to accompany the personal insight gained by the Ozymandias figure. The lengthening corresponds to the final line in a narrative Spenserian stanza, which I have noticed is often applied to Spenserian sonnets as well. There is no doubt that you make a longer line here with meaning that is clear to the reader.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      Thank you so much, Margaret. I’m overwhelmed by the amount of time you’ve spent analyzing my poems and articulating your expert thoughts, which mean a great deal to me.

      Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      Also, thank you for reminding me of the Ben Jonson poem. “To have so soon ‘scap’d world’s and flesh’s rage” — so poignant — also reminds me of Housman’s “To an Athlete Dying Young”: “Smart lad, to slip betimes away….”

      Reply
  14. C.B. Anderson

    If I may say so, both were sublime. I have a bad habit of skimming lines when I feel that I am just slogging through, but you had my rapt attention from beginning to end.

    Reply
    • Cynthia Erlandson

      I’m very glad to know that, C.B. Thank you very much.

      Reply
  15. Stephen Binns

    Thoroughly beautiful, Cynthia. Heartbreakingly beautiful is the first; ingeniously beautiful the second. Congratulations.

    Reply

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