Saturday, 27 March 2010

A Poem for Deborah

My blogging buddy, Deborah, wrote a moving and thought provoking post about the unexplained withdrawal and loss of a friend and the questions and heart searchings this throws up. I came across this poem yesterday and I thought it might be relevant;  even if it doesn't give an explanation if might lessen the pain.

Sometimes it happens

And sometimes it happens that you are friends and then
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself.

And sometimes it happens that you are loved and then
You are not loved,
And love is past.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself into the grass.

And sometimes you want to speak to her and then
You do not want to speak,
Then the opportunity has passed.
Your dreams flare up, they suddenly vanish.

And also it happens that there is nowhere to go and then
There is somewhere to go,
Then you have bypassed.
And the years flare up and are gone,
Quicker than a minute.

So you have nothing.
You wonder if these things matter and then
As soon as you begin to wonder if these things matter
They cease to matter,
And caring is past.
And a fountain empties itself into the grass.

Brian Patten



  1. A very fine poem in response to a very fine post from Deborah. Love it.

  2. Yes a great poem. Friko I read your previous post with interest. I have read all my life too, still reading and blogging also. I am writing my memoirs on this PC. I have had one year printed and bound and will do each 6 mo at a time. I already have dozens of journals written but these new writings will be easier to read as when my children get to the written journals they may be hard to write. You have an amazing story to tell also. I know you do.

  3. You are a sweet soul and a good friend. I'm sure Deborah will be touched.

    My books are also my friends. I LOVE my books. Many I have read more than once with a different experience each time. I see so many people switching to 'Kindles' - these hand held computers than have the memory to access and hold many books. Has little appeal for me as I love the feel of books - and often commit the sacrilege of marking my musings in the margins.

    Take care dear Friko.

    Oh ... may I ask you something - and, of course, you do not have to answer unless you want to - Where does the name Friko come from? I have seen comments to you in German that use another given name - so I am curious about Friko?

  4. Elizabethm - thank you for that

    QMM - I am glad to hear that you are atually writing your story, one day your children will be very grateful.

    Bonnie - I don't know about Kindles, have never seen one, just heard of them. I am absolutely certain that I prefer the real thing, ie a 'proper' book, with pages to turn. Besides, books furnish a room. What would I do with my bare walls.

    Yes, you may ask and I will gladly tell you; privately. My email is on my profile page. Friko is NOT a name.

  5. Hi Friko

    your poem expresses just how it is to feel the loss, the consternation, the grief and then the release of losing a friend...

    Happy days

  6. I read Deborah’s post. This poem is totally “à propos.” I sounds like it was written for her. You have an uncanny way of finding the exact poem Friko.

  7. Friko, that was a very kind thing to do and I thank you for it. I read, slowly, and I will again. It's quite beautiful. Good night, friend.

  8. Perfect!

    Aloha from Hawaii my Friend!

    Comfort Spiral

  9. I haven't yet read Deborah's post, but I appreciated the poem, nonetheless. One can't arrive at a certain age without experiencing loss. No loss is easy, but unexplained loss is the worst. I think that this poem is soothing in the way it offers no explanation other than 'this is what is, now'.
    Back to read it again.

  10. A very beautiful poem. I shall look up that poet and read some more.

  11. Powerful- tremedous.. thank you for sharing these words!

  12. That fountain image at the end is fab.

  13. The fountain image didn't show up on my computer.

    I have had many losses in my life, but the ones that hurt the most are the ones that leave you wondering 'why?'. It's like reading a book and having the last chapter torn out. Somehow, you think you must have been guilty of some transgression, but don't have a clue as to what it was.


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