This Winter’s Discontent
This winter’s discontent
descends,
this year’s silent snow
gives no pleasure,
this year’s winter storm
no passion,
Clever too much by far
the butcher faintly sighs
as his cleaver cuts through
and down to the bone,
To read the rest of this post click HERE
OK... Comments, gripes, etc welcomed, but with some cautions and one rule:
Cautions: Calling people fools, idiots, etc, will be reason to bounce your comment. Keeping in mind that in the struggles it is difficult enough to try to respect opponents, we should at least try.
Rule: PLEASE DO NOT SIGN OFF AS ANONYMOUS: BEGIN OR END THE MESSAGE WITH A NAME - ANY NAME. ANONYMOUS commentary will be cut.
The poem as commentary cut deep and quick and healed me all in the same breath, considering I realized I was holding my breath as I sprinted through the first read. After a second read, I paused and listened for my breath and felt my thoughts spinning. Now upon reading it yet again, from the vantage of post-Tsunami, post- winter blizzard, post-reading the daily life stories of joys and tragedies in and out of the Church, I see even more and feel explicitly the layers, the depth and intricacies of this piece. The produce of the talented Harris never fails to conjure multiple images of substance and this is just another beginning of his tomorrow's work. I'm breathless, yet again.
ReplyDelete