Growing up in Memphis, the Mississippi River was like an old friend, always there, running through the backdrop of my childhood. So when I found myself living in Baton Rouge and New Orleans in the 80s, it was like reconnecting with that familiar presence, but in a whole new way. Baton Rouge had that same river flowing right through it, but the city had its own unique charm, with those grand oak trees and the college town atmosphere. It was like the river was whispering new stories to me, about the rich history and the mystery that was always unfolding in the South.
And then, New Orleans - that city just grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. The jazz that filled the air, the mouthwatering Creole cuisine, and the way people embraced life with such passion and joy - it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I'd lose myself in the winding streets of the French Quarter, soaking up the energy of Bourbon Street, and it was like I was discovering parts of myself that I never knew existed. The Mississippi River, my old friend from Memphis, it was right there too, winding through the heart of the city, connecting me to my past while I explored this new, captivating world.
There's just something about the sultry, enigmatic atmosphere of New Orleans that gets under your skin and becomes a part of you. Growing up with the Mississippi River and then finding it again in these two incredible cities, it was like coming home to a place I never knew I belonged. Those memories from the 80s, they're etched into my soul like the river itself, forever a part of who I am.
That four-syllable count, sustained over sixteen lines, suggests the gentle rocking movement of water under the docked riverboat.
In stanza 2, the syntactic inversion that yields "ecstasy / perpetual" was probably done for the syllable count, but--by the happy accident that can attend writing to a fixed form--it also lets in a bit of strangeness as well as a sonic allusion to being-outside-of-time, as in the Christian phrase "life everlasting." (I'll use apophasis to duck the erotic subtext of the stanza.)
Each of the lines in stanza 4 can stand alone, as in a collage, but their close enjambment here allows the synesthetic image of "sunrise / music" and the double use of "echoes" as both noun and verb. Among other nice surprises.
All of which is to say that a poem's subliminal effects should never be discounted as a factor in the reader's pleasure.
And that's my $.02. Good afternoon. I'll show myself out.
This is just gorgeous.
Thank you, Patris
I firmly believe that if, say, the fate would bring us to New Orleans first-all my relationship with this land would be different
Thank you, Jonathan-great verses, great photos
I bet that’s true, it’s a unique place
Love New Orleans!! Thanks for the reminder!
You’re welcome! And thank you
A beautiful poem that paints a portrait of the celebration of nature!
Thank you, Stan
Ah, memories!
When were you here?
Back in 2011, attending a conference for work. Just after Mardi Gras. Enjoyed it a lot.
Soon enough there will be an eclipse and you can inspire with that in poem too.
Thanks Mike, something to ponder
So beautiful. I have been enjoying all your “Sunrises”!
Thank you, Monica
Growing up in Memphis, the Mississippi River was like an old friend, always there, running through the backdrop of my childhood. So when I found myself living in Baton Rouge and New Orleans in the 80s, it was like reconnecting with that familiar presence, but in a whole new way. Baton Rouge had that same river flowing right through it, but the city had its own unique charm, with those grand oak trees and the college town atmosphere. It was like the river was whispering new stories to me, about the rich history and the mystery that was always unfolding in the South.
And then, New Orleans - that city just grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. The jazz that filled the air, the mouthwatering Creole cuisine, and the way people embraced life with such passion and joy - it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I'd lose myself in the winding streets of the French Quarter, soaking up the energy of Bourbon Street, and it was like I was discovering parts of myself that I never knew existed. The Mississippi River, my old friend from Memphis, it was right there too, winding through the heart of the city, connecting me to my past while I explored this new, captivating world.
There's just something about the sultry, enigmatic atmosphere of New Orleans that gets under your skin and becomes a part of you. Growing up with the Mississippi River and then finding it again in these two incredible cities, it was like coming home to a place I never knew I belonged. Those memories from the 80s, they're etched into my soul like the river itself, forever a part of who I am.
Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Splendid, Gloria. I have similar formative feelings for the Columbia River and the Pacific Northwest. But New Orleans … a whole different ballgame.
Nicely done. Third stanza reminds me of any trip I’ve ever made to the Big Easy.
Thanks, Brian
That four-syllable count, sustained over sixteen lines, suggests the gentle rocking movement of water under the docked riverboat.
In stanza 2, the syntactic inversion that yields "ecstasy / perpetual" was probably done for the syllable count, but--by the happy accident that can attend writing to a fixed form--it also lets in a bit of strangeness as well as a sonic allusion to being-outside-of-time, as in the Christian phrase "life everlasting." (I'll use apophasis to duck the erotic subtext of the stanza.)
Each of the lines in stanza 4 can stand alone, as in a collage, but their close enjambment here allows the synesthetic image of "sunrise / music" and the double use of "echoes" as both noun and verb. Among other nice surprises.
All of which is to say that a poem's subliminal effects should never be discounted as a factor in the reader's pleasure.
And that's my $.02. Good afternoon. I'll show myself out.
Please stay!
“big easy” is so appropriate for this piece. Lazy and comfortable, beautiful and expansive.
Thanks, Mike