In the same way that the mindless diamond keeps
one spark of the planet's early fires
trapped forever in its net of ice,
it's not love's later heat that poetry holds,
but the atom of the love that drew it forth
from the silence: so if the bright coal of his love
begins to smoulder, the poet hears his voice
suddenly forced, like a bar-room singer's -- boastful
with his own huge feeling, or drowned by violins;
but if it yields a steadier light, he knows
the pure verse, when it finally comes, will sound
like a mountain spring, anonymous and serene.
Beneath the blue oblivious sky, the water
sings of nothing, not your name, not mine.
- Don Paterson
Lovely, eh? Possibly true, too.
What poem caught your fancy this week? Which poem did you create? Share it here, either by linking to your post or by adding it to our comments.
Autumn's approach signals a more pensive mood, so expect to see some thought-provoking poems here this season. I'm looking forward to reading yours as well.