Perishable
The day is breaking in the East and all
the edifice of night is gone at last:
that shining zodiac that lights our way.
The host of birds now sing their madrigal,
consigning stars and planets to the past
as dream and nightmare leave – they cannot stay.
Thus, night must end – and in the turning year,
each season takes the stage and then retires,
as if the wings brought comfort or delight.
We too must leave the stage. And it is clear
that we rebel at what the stage requires:
to speak our piece and exit, as is right.
Perishable
Interesting thought John and appreciated because I've been getting the perishable feeling lately and contemplating exits from certain arenas (not poetry ones I should add).
I've never heard of the word "madrigal" and was delighted to find its meaning. Your background in romantic literature really shines through in your poetry.
I've never heard of the word "madrigal" and was delighted to find its meaning. Your background in romantic literature really shines through in your poetry.
Last edited by Morpheus on Sun Jul 30, 2023 2:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
Exit stage right! A pleasing Shakespearean feel to the poem John, which is apt for the contemplation and summation. I liked the bird madrigal too. And the transitory nature of seasons being analogous to Acts. And perhaps our nature is to 'rebel' against The Script. Awkward buggers humans
The kind of poem I would return to for another read if I should discover it in an anthology. The pacing has a measured elegance.
Bw
Phil
The kind of poem I would return to for another read if I should discover it in an anthology. The pacing has a measured elegance.Bw
Phil
