Winter Romance
Fearing untamed animals
on the dark and lonely moor;
seeing only wintry sunset
vastness through the door,
we take the lowest road,
the line of least resistance,
the better safe than sorrow way
to painful raw existence.
Frostbitten, frozen, we resist
those things which have to be,
while secretly (resentfully)
wishing we were free;
rebuffing those within whose
hearts encirclement awaits us
and for whom we have a boundless
space within our own.
Iceberg memories hidden hugeness
floats in frozen skies,
in terror of the infinite —
a lover’s limpid eyes.
Afraid to lose our selves,
preserved in glacial pride;
in squand’ring Spring’s fertility
capacity for loving dies.
Love — when seen through falling
snowflakes crystal vision —
becomes a cold and clever mimic,
object of derision,
suffused with chill insanity
(the mind’s mad moorland surge).
For only from the seeds of Death
can Love’s sweet bloom emerge.
Elaine Booth
Fri 24th Jun 2011 23:47
This poem weaves some sort of magic that I really liked. Would like to re-read it again - and all these comments. Some essays here - nice to think you can inspire all this!