Persephone

Gentle Souls,

I thought I would share a poem this week. Being in a far away land where there is no real winter, I kind of miss the experience of spring a bit. Wordsworth felt that poetry should find inspiration from memories that are recollected in a place far from the event in time and place. He discusses this in his intro to Lyrical Ballads.

Tintern Abby is a primary example of what he means by that. I didn’t like the poem when I read it the first time through, but now I love it and consider it one of my favorites. Even so, I thought I would put one of my own poems, recollecting a memory of spring,on my blog. I realize that hardly anyone will ever read the stuff I put here, but all the same, I “send forth filament, filament, filament. Seeking the spheres to connect them.”

Regarding my rather archaic tone, Jared Carter once told me that he wanted to get me into the modern world. My poetry could have been written in the days of the Romantics. (Keats, Shelly, Byron, etc) I have tried to get into modern and postmodern poetry in writing and reading, and I do enjoy it enough, but I keep having relapses. All the same, if you happen to read these words, enjoy.

When the maple tree
Is copper green,
And mushrooms in
The wood are seen,
My soul, she comes alive.

What cruel intrigue
Of the gods,
To which the Lord
Of heaven nods,
Did steal my soul from me?

But green, she comes
From Hades’ caves,
And leaves behind
The frozen graves,
Far brighter than before.