Well winter has arrived awhile ago with buckets full of snow. Manson Solomon writes a poem about our winter of discontent that should depress you all, and make you pine for the fragrant breath of spring. Solomon writes the LYRICAL:
“I emerged from the womb with a mission to be a writer with a large trust fund. Said trust fund being inexplicably absent, I took the road more traveled, {acquiring graduate degrees in Economics, Psychology and Philosophy from the London School of Economics, Columbia and Harvard,] engaging in various academic, artistic and entrepreneurial pursuits — in New York, London, Jerusalem, Johannesburg, Nova Scotia, Wellesley, Cambridge — I am currently a member of the Bagel Bards of Somerville, Mass.”
*
WINTER HAS COME
Winter has come
quietly
tumbling white
out of the grey
grey sky.
Trees stand
to attention
pointing blindly.
Scattered clusters
of dead oak leaves
snagged on the outstretched fingers,
orange-brown tatters, cling
to the stiff, empty coat-racks
stark witnesses
to the creep
of the insidious white
along the bark’s crevices.
Blanched bladelets accept
without protest
the enveloping ice
until they disappear
entombed
deep-frozen.
Forsaken by the sun,
starved into submission,
the earth yields
to the suffocating pillow of snowflakes,
life drained from its desiccated veins
it draws a final sigh,
exhales
and lies still
in its white, white silent shroud.
No birds, no squirrels, no blooms,
no song.
No gentle breezes stirring the
odorless air.
Only the steady drift
of the accumulating crystals
smothering,
embalming
the colorless earth.
Nothing moves.
– Manson Solomon
*
_______________________________________________
To have your work considered for the Lyrical send it to:
Doug Holder, 25 School St.; Somerville, MA 02143.
dougholder@post.harvard.edu
Reader Comments