Love, Poetry and Revolution - Wednesday 9th August 2023

Q's brother and his wife are heading south today, so it's goodbye until we meet up in Spain later.

Back to work...

I have been breaking all my own 'rules' about the poems I read, so I've read a couple only once and skipped them (apologies to Geoffrey Chaucer). This week's poem is now by Edna St. Vincent Millay (look her up) and goes like this:

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more.

A poem tinged with a deep sense of sadness and loss. I feel the need to dig deeper.

Easy Star All-Stars /  'Human Nature'  / 'Thrillah'

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