The Baggins Birthday, the Day After ~ a new poem by jan-u-wine, with drawings by Alan Lee.

[mechtild]

~*~





Happy Late Birthday, Bilbo and Frodo....


I have said this is a new poem, but technically it is not. Jan-u-wine wrote "Birthday" late last fall, too late to post in the 2013 Baggins Birthday entry. I considered posting it during the intervening months, but the poem really is best suited to the day after September 22.

"Birthday" is about Bilbo, but it is just as much about Frodo, from whose point of view it is written. From that vantage point, we can enter into Frodo's thoughts and feelings, marveling as much at the beauty of his soul as that of the beloved hobbit he both mourns and celebrates.

A blessed birthday to you, Bilbo and Frodo, and may we meet beyond the Circles of the World.



~*~

Birthday


How might I forget?

How might I forget:
the very trees remind me,
burnt orange-red,

swift-falling leaves

fiercely recalling
the waist-coat he especially wore
in autumn,

the smudge-black of shadow'd bark
recollecting his quick,
clever eyes.

How might I forget
when I hear his voice,

calling within
the fading of the day,

rose clouds surrendering
to moon-graced night,

a little wind
whispering

among the waves
of an unseen shore.


Even the green of the grasses,
deep along the curve of a sundered road,
remind me of him,

even the silent glint of a solitary star
or the kindly song of a stream,

laughing along its course.

How might I forget?

And yet, I have.
I
did.

__________________________________

The road is deep in warm-autumn dust,

trees fragile with faded leaves,
falling with gentle sorrow where now he rests.

I stay for a while beside him,
though he has gone.

I stay for a while,
my mind strayed to other times,

other places.

His old walking stick lies,

crooked,
upon the ground
at my side,

the carved bowl of his favorite pipe,
skin-warmed,

within my hand.



Forgive me, Uncle.

I did not remember the day.

Rather,
I sought out,
in my grief,

all of them,
all of them

we shared.

Each moment of them,
an Adventure,

each hour a schooling
of heart and mind,

each day a
birth day.

Thank you, Uncle.

Never shall I forget
our

birth days.

~*~

* Drawings by Alan Lee, from headings of chapters 1 and 2 of The Hobbit (Houghton Mifflin, 1997).

Most recent Frodo entry:

~ "Hope" by jan-u-wine, art by John Cockshaw.

Other Links:

~ All entries featuring jan-u-wine's poems.

Comments

[aliensouldream.livejournal.com]

each day a
birth day.

What a glorious thought. This is the most loving whole-heart tribute that Frodo could make, in all its quiet love of nature, landscape and little things, a song of the very qualities that Bilbo had and awoke in him. At Bilbo's side, discovery was a constant, the years a continual conversation of the richness and magic in life. Their life together was unplanned and yet it was the saving of them both, a daily gift. The ache of separation is the measure of that love. But there is no loss here. Frodo sees, hears and feels with and for Bilbo still.

Thanks, Jan, for this wonderful poem, and Mechtild for bringing it to us. Part of an amazing cycle of work we have been so lucky to experience xxx

[mechtild.livejournal.com]

Aliensouldream, I am so pleased you stopped by. This is such a fine piece, dedicated to such fine characters. But you have said it better, why it is threaded through with the sadness of loss yet is not sorrowful:

"Their life together was unplanned and yet it was the saving of them both, a daily gift. The ache of separation is the measure of that love. But there is no loss here. Frodo sees, hears and feels with and for Bilbo still."

Thank you so much for this eloquent and perceptive comment, ASD. :)

[jan-u-wine.livejournal.com]

you know, ASD, one of the greatest joys in writing is being a part, then, of a community of thought and feeling that grows out of such an effort. I was talking to Mechtild the other day about how time and our lives are like a tapestry. Every moment that has gone before , every moment happening now, every moment happening in the times to come contribute a stitch, a bit of the weave to the fabric of forever. The living voices come and go, but our imprint goes on, always, tied to the past and the future.

We're so fortunate to be a part of the tale, to be able to voice our wonder and our love.

I'm so grateful to share the journey with you, and to know that when i throw a bit into the tapestry, you are there, beside me. What more could I ever ask?

thank you!

[julchen11.livejournal.com]

These words are so lovingly and so you, dear. To me it feels like I can hear your heart beating in every single word,
Words only a poet can say.

[jan-u-wine.livejournal.com]

.....and now your heart and words beat along side mine, part of the tapestry. So very happy that you are *visibly* here again and that you are well and happy!

[julchen11.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much, dear heart. How can't I be happy ...

[jan-u-wine.livejournal.com]

there is no way not to be happy! Carpe Diem indeed!

Seize all of them, squeeze them, run over them with your car, juice 'em into your life-glass!