Goya's Ghost


  • Love
  • ,
  • Loss

    Poem Commentary

    Sometimes you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone.

    Goya's Ghost


    I gave my heart to Goya

    Oft’ she’d rest my troubled soul

    As she let me touch her in that way

    That heals the broken into whole


    I gave my heart to Goya

    I slow studied all her curves

    She asked of me to do such things

    That vivified the nerves


    When I’d spend late nights with Goya

    Caressing her with care

    She demanded that my fingers

    Be placed just exactly there.


    I’d fall asleep to Goya’s view

    Sometimes she’d share my bed

    When after music that we made

    Would still play inside my head


    There came a night when Goya died

    She’d survived a near fatal crash

    But this time her neck severed from her back

    Her life snuffed out in a flash


    I’m haunted now by Goya’s ghost

    When some fretful newfound star

    Speaks of the one that he loves most,

    I still grieve my old guitar.

    Poem Comments


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    shallenemcgrath commented on Goya's Ghost


    Harv, I thought you were talking about Francisco Goya -the painter- by the title. When you said "she" instead of "he" it seemed odd. And then the idea of sleeping with someone that painted "Saturn eating his children" is kind of macabre. VERY SCARY. -reading this it sounds like a pretty kitty. I would like to very much know how you ended up calling her Goya.



    This was all rather tongue in cheek. I had great affection for my Goya guitar until she met an untimely end. Yeah, in college I'd fall asleep and wake up with that thing next to me. Nothing sexual, but fatigue was the only force left at work after too many hours awake.



    Is Goya a brand of Guitar?



    Note to shallen, yes. Not the most espensive, but mine had a great fretboard feel and rich mellow tone. Harv

    ginga commented on Goya's Ghost


    What a transcendence. I love the surprise ending! ginga



    Many thanks for your endurance. This appears to be the most recent of your reads made today. Harv

    carynontherhine commented on Goya's Ghost


    omg, a guitar? Not sure of this write but could be that she was his beloved guitar! And yes to love something or someone still has the same emotion, craving producing to be with it or her or him. Just as my mind traces back in time to my beloved home land of Europe and how I loved her, the passion and craving for her. Always and forever never parting and never wanting the end of such a love. This is his love of his guitar I believe. No, the erotica for me was an inside meaning. Somehow I kind of sensed this as I went along that this erotica was not of a woman. Its not your style. I could be wrong but then again, I loved the write and can sing his song. Hugz



    Half the fun of a poem is pondering over it, the other half comes when you find evidence you are right. thanks for your insightful digest. Harv

    PoetWithCancer commented on Goya's Ghost


    2. Now, as to the purposed, designed deceiption--augmented by your tag words "love" and "loss"--that this a poem about a lost lover, i.e., a love poem--and, as it unfolds, in fact an erotic love poem: I have to say that you managed to make what I found to be a very erotically charged poem. I admire how much you were able to say--without actually saying it! // Setting aside the title, the poem itself is a gem, and I am saving it to my favorites. I still suggest that you change the title, to avoid turning away a potential audience (those who like love poems but not poems about art & artists); and especially so as not to tip off those who might more readily recall that Goya is also the name of a guitar. // Of course, this is a suggestion offered with good will. You are the poet of this poem. I'm just making a suggestion on the title. The poem itself deserves critical praise, and that is what counts the most. Regardless of the title, this is an excellent poem. The pleasure of reading or hearing such a poem is worth a lot to me. 10 from me. --Michael LP, Mr. Poet



    Merry Christmas, Michael. I hope you have a memorable day. For all the right reasons, Harv

    PoetWithCancer commented on Goya's Ghost


    1. Dear Harver, // An intrest-catching and interest-keeping poem. // I don't think you likely intended for people to be deceived, by the title, that you were writing about Goya the painter. That is what I thought the poem was about. I think many people who might really like this poem might not read it if they don't know about Goya or are uninterested in art. Maybe if you changed the title to something like "The Ghost of my Girl, Goya" that would help set up the deception that you intend, which is to make people at first believe this poem is a love poem--which begins to unfold as a very erotic love poem. Many more people will attracted to an apparent love poem than to a poem apparently about the artists Goya. // But it turns out to be a guitar. Even though I am a singer and have been, over the years, in serveral bands with good musicians including guitar players, I have such a strong love of painting and other art that I didn't even think about the guitar when I saw the title; but some people might guess too soon that this is your real subject. // I didn't guess it, so I got the full impact of the surprise ending. It was an impact important to the power of the poem. Even on second and third readings, the flavor of that impact, in memory, is retained. But if for some people there is never an impact (because of the tip-off by the title), such people will never fully appreciate how good this poem is and how well it is written and cleverly constructed to lead to that impact.



    It is only 'erotic' in the sense of the entendre allowing a double meaning. I agonized over the title. I almost called it "The Night Goya Died" but opted for brevity. Thanks for your contribution, and insights, Harv

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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