(no subject)

[claymedeiros.livejournal.com]

With the Dog at Sunrise

Although we always come this way
I never noticed before that the poplars
growing along the ravine
shine pink in the light of winter dawn.

What am I going to say
in my letter to Sarah—a widow
at thirty-one, alone in the violence
of her grief, sleepless,
and utterly cast down?

I look at the lithe, pink trees more carefully,
remembering Stephen, the photographer.
With the hunger of two I take them in.
Perhaps I can tell her that.

The dog furrows his brow while pissing long
and thoughtfully against an ancient hemlock.
The snow turns the saffron of a monk’s robe
and acrid steam ascends.

Searching for God is the first thing and the last,
but in between such trouble, and such pain.

Far up in the woods where no one goes
deer take their ease under the great
pines, nose to steaming nose….

Jane Kenyon

Comments

[blue-thundering.livejournal.com]

So straightforward are the images throughout this piece that its summation in rhyme in no way seems affected or contrived. Sincerity in poetry is often disparaged by literary critics, but Kenyon almost never fails to make the frankness of life a thing of aching beauty.

Thank you so much for sharing.

[claymedeiros.livejournal.com]

I agree. There is a combination of ease and simplicity combined with great control.

[claymedeiros.livejournal.com]

I would be interested in adding you as a friend. I am a poet, artist and hand drummer. Here is a poem about a work of art as a demonstration of good faith:

On the Occasion of a Francis Bacon Exhibit

The wrenched heart screams in a box,
Where no one can listen.
The loneliness of space and time
Confined here, now, in this place,
Forever and ever.

An abandoned soul shrieks in a room,
Carefully measured, no sight, no sound,
The trappings of faith and office
Tied to this chair, in this place,
Forever and ever.

The broken body twists and turns
Not bound to bloody mortality.
The aching mouth gored by love’s
Last betrayal, in this place,
Forever and ever.

The starless room, black and red,
A dog’s bark searches the night.
No ears listen for a song
Or a melody in this place,
Forever and ever.

The furious, raw, meaning myth,
A mutilated slice, never a told story.
The faithless density of unhinged mourning,
Friends and lovers, in this place,
Forever and ever.

[naked-lies-adam.livejournal.com]

Thank you. This piece is stunning.

[thermitesocks.livejournal.com]

She's a new favorite of mine. Thanks.

[thermitesocks.livejournal.com]

...Which would make her the first female writer that I adore. I was beginning to fear that I was a misogynist!