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Tag Archives: Galway Kinnell

Crocuses, Sunset and A Poem

Some Crocuses have popped up on the opposite side of the garden from our Suffragette garden which is a pleasant surprise.

Purple and white among the green

It has been a bitterly cold and beautifully bright day so we headed out to see the sunset.

Sunset over St Ives from Godrevy

A new poem came my way a couple of days ago and I share it here – Wait by Galway Kinnell. The lines that drew me to it especially were those about pain.  Wait long enough and everything will become interesting again.

Wait – Galway  Kinnell

Wait, for now.
Distrust everything if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven’t they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become interesting.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again;
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. The desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

Wait.
Don’t go too early.
You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a little and listen:
music of hair,
music of pain,
music of looms weaving our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

Readers who follow these posts will know that ten days ago I had a steroid injection in both ankles to, hopefully, dissipate the pain therein. For four days I walked on sunshine. Now, things are somewhat better but not the bliss I first experienced, sadly.

 

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Ducks, Silver Linings and A Blackberry Poem

Driving into Truro this afternoon, we followed a van the rear of which which made me smile.

Ducks

Driving home, the grey sky was suddenly lit in such a way that we seemed to be looking through some torn holes to see the silver lining.

Silver holes in the sky

I was given this poem yesterday and it delighted me both as an eater of Blackberries and a bit of a wordsmith.

Blackberry Eating – Galway Kinnell

I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
they earn for knowing the black art
of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them
lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries
fall almost unbidden to my tongue,
as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words
like strengths or squinched,
many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,
which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well
in the silent, startled, icy, black language
of blackberry-eating in late September.

Isn’t it a delight?

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2017 in Beauty, Humour, nature, Photography, poetry, postaday2017

 

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