The Wasteland Revisited
T.S.E. and I may disagree,
That April supreme possesses
The power that caresses
The life from infertile earth.
The worth of a season
In prompting a reason
For passion or care
Is not the affair
Of April alone.
For seeds which were sown
Eons ago,
Can produce in the snow
A dream, that will throw
Through the stoniest ground
A growth
Whose sound alone could shake the stars
And make gods quake in fear,
at what,
perhaps mistakenly,
They have created here.
© James Rainsford
Note to Readers: This was written as a short response to the beginning lines of T.S. Eliot's poem 'The Wasteland.' Your views are welcome. Please click on the comments tab below. I'll try to respond to all who comment. Kind regards, and thanks for your visit. James.
No matter what is thrown my even the Gods themselves, life shall remain in one form or another. Wonderful flow and great pic as always!
ReplyDeleteNicely turned phrases here, James, and I agree--the winter cold and the summer wildfire are all part of the toolbox of the heart, nature's and our own. Eliot is in the air lately--I've seen him referenced several places out on the blogosphere, and I coincidentally have 'Burnt Norton' up on my Off the Shelf page this month. He sometimes annoys, but he did have quite a bit to say.
ReplyDeletePowerful interpretation of the Wasteland.
ReplyDeleteIt's seems so strange to see drought in places like Africa and Texas, then floods/hurricanes/typhoons in other parts of the world.
I especially like the reference to seeds/dreams sown long ago. The photo is sobering.
Love Eliot. Intriguing poem. Makes me think as reading Eliot often does. The gods fear having ever created here...perhaps us humans scare them with what we come up with?
ReplyDeleteApril is only cruel in the eyes of man (or a certain type of man) but she will live on long after he passes.
ReplyDeletethis speaks to me of hope even in the cold winter or driest summer because we never know, as you said, what was planted eons ago that may decide to sprout up just at that moment when all seems lost.
ReplyDeletecan just imagine the gods looking at each other going...who let that out...smiles...life happens in the most unpredictable places...
ReplyDeleteI know it's those winters in my soul that germinate my best ideas. Maybe I should stop chasing the muse so hard and enjoy this spring while it lasts, even if I can't write a blessed thing while it's here.
ReplyDeleteYou have expressed emotions so well. Thank you so much for sharing this poem I have enjoyed it so much
ReplyDeleteAhhh, T.S.E. I think Bob Dylan was a big fan too.
ReplyDeleteAnd Bob would like this poem, for sure.
Seeds ARE amazin, all the mysteries of the universe contained within, eons and eons is right.
And did you know about that seed storage place in a mountain in Iceland? I think it's Iceland.
Anyhoo, great to be here again.
I enjoyed the rhythm in your piece.
ReplyDelete~laurie
James...once again, wonderful word weaving that takes my imagination and runs away with it. What would those gods think? Perfect in rhythm and presentation, and yet another simply fascinating image..which to me, speaks of hope. Wonderful visit...as per the norm! ;)
ReplyDeleteNice share, James.
ReplyDelete