by Steve King
© 2020 All rights reserved
And now is winter well begun,
every old hard dream.
Forgotten, that fair suite
that flew the distant airs of spring.
Morns, I chant the same old lies:
how each new increment of evening sun
promises of kindlier things to come;
how darkness is that salutary thing
where one might pause
and get forgetting done.
A new poem for Joy's 55
A lovely lilt and almost Shakespearean feel to this,Steve, though the message is suitably wintry, even bleak. That second line is a winter's jab to the heart, indeed. I agree with the narrator, and wonder if forgetting ever gets done these days; darkness often just seems to make my own remembering stronger. A sharp, concise yet beautifully balanced and lyric 55, Steve. I'm so glad you could join us.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful reverie, Steve. Your closing lines are especially wonderful. I loved the feeling I had while reading this......I do much looking back at this time of my life.
ReplyDeleteI adore the opening two lines, and the final two especially, but one must take this small jewel in its finely crafted entirety to do it justice as a reader. Bravo for this nuanced, carefully written gem.
ReplyDeleteI find this poem to be most relevant to my way of thinking at present.. somewhat mournful at the start of each day when purpose becomes clouded.
ReplyDeleteOhhh, I love this poem so much! I adore the rhythm which gives it a classic feel. And I love the sentiment, as I get my forgetting done this morning over coffee. I find myself clinging to the dark of winter and resenting the encroaching spring. Geez.
ReplyDelete