Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Happy 2009

Here's my second New Year's Eve post. The saplings and I are spending it home. I chose the coward's way out with my brief romance and stopped returning calls. Much easier than the alternatives. I would rather be inspired and alone than stressed out attending to an immature adult.

Soon enough I will rustle up some grub and riffle through the DVD collection for the evening's entertainment. Or, if I keep cracking away at the champagne, perhaps it will turn into an impromptu instrumental jam with drums, keyboards, guitars, and percussion.

I found a poem I wanted to share. My excursion into poetry is rather complicated. For most of my life I despised poetry, until I met an inspiring singer-songwriter. Totally ignorant of form I pounded out poem after poem of my own. As with most passionate friendships, ours crashed and burned and we went our separate ways a dozen years ago.

Several years ago I stumbled across another source of inspiration. This one was far more advanced and required some study. I started reading poetry-anything I could get my hands on . Many of the poems I have posted on my blog were an etheric reply to poems posted elsewhere. Sometimes they fit beautifully, sometimes only somewhat. Sometimes I just posted a poem because I liked it. Poetry is a very complicated way to communicate! Well, it's been a fun ride. ;)

So, to make a long story shorter, here's tonight's poem:
Looking For a Sunset Bird in Winter
by Robert Frost
The west was getting out of gold,
The breath of air had died of cold,
When shoeing home across the white,
I thought I saw a bird alight.

In summer when I passed the place
I had to stop and lift my face;
A bird with an angelic gift
Was singing in it sweet and swift.

No bird was singing in it now.
A single leaf was on a bough,
And that was all there was to see
In going twice around the tree.

From my advantage on a hill
I judged that such a crystal chill
Was only adding frost to snow
As gilt to gold that wouldn't show.

A brush had left a crooked stroke
Of what was either cloud or smoke
From north to south across the blue;
A piercing little star was through.


Velvet Ginger said...

I love of my favs of all time! This poem definitely defines my life as I know the summer is long gone, but the bird is still calling calling calling me.
(About your first statement...I totally agree with you!! That's exactly how I feel.)

Velvet Ginger said...

I stopped by to say "Hi", I can't believe no one else has thoughts and poetry are inspiring, has your weather cleared up yet?
I hope all is well with you hon.