The Seasons

[PrinceMyshkin]

Tie off the severed leg of winter
and leap, as best you can,
into some other season, though each
is a palimpsest of others:
the winter of ‘72, the spring
of ‘48, the year of your birth:
that one, long, extended season
in your parents’ arms.

[Alexander III]

are the winter of 72 and the spring of 48 allusions to particular events ?

[PrinceMyshkin]

are the winter of 72 and the spring of 48 allusions to particular events ?

When I was writing the poem I reached for what I intended as random dates, but in retrospect I can see that each was a significant year in my own life.

[Hawkman]

A one legged leap is a hop I believe
and a hop is a hope that is minus an e
when a season’s best boast is a palimpsest
then a shortage of limbs makes you fail the test.
But I really prefer to inscribe all the years,
regardless of laughter or gallons of tears,
to incunable tomes that are easily read
by biography writers for those who are dead;
for surely the lengthiest season of all
is the one after darkness in Valhalla’s hall.
But thank you, my Prince, for your elegant verse,
succinctness and brevity, rarely my curse;
as always, provoking the mind to reflect
on matters of moment one shouldn’t neglect.

Live long and Prosper - H

[lallison]

Tie off the severed leg of winter
and leap, as best you can,

I think the first two lines are brilliant. Then the voice and tone make a subtle shift and the narration becomes something like a Benjamin Button type scenario. This is still interesting, although a bit of a fantasy. It loses the rhythm of the first two verses that I enjoyed so much. Ultimately, I feel the potential you have going is not completely realized. B- lal

[cogs]

your metaphors are excellent, although personally i want them tied together in meaning; a package i can unwrap with excitement. thank you for courageously exposing the vulnerability of childhood.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thank you, Cogs and Lallison, and as for you,


A one legged leap is a hop I believe
and a hop is a hope that is minus an e
when a season’s best boast is a palimpsest
then a shortage of limbs makes you fail the test.
But I really prefer to inscribe all the years,
regardless of laughter or gallons of tears,
to incunable tomes that are easily read
by biography writers for those who are dead;
for surely the lengthiest season of all
is the one after darkness in Valhalla’s hall.
But thank you, my Prince, for your elegant verse,
succinctness and brevity, rarely my curse;
as always, provoking the mind to reflect
on matters of moment one shouldn’t neglect.

Live long and Prosper - H

this is as one might expect brilliantly witty. Thanks.

PS Re the "leap/hop" issue: I didn't mean to imply that the severed leg had once belonged to the protagonist but rather that it was an extremity of the recent, implicitly brutal winter, so brutal that it had come to seem personal to him.

[Virgil]

How joyful!! I really like this one Prince. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

How joyful!! I really like this one Prince. :)

Thanks, Virgil. I'm guessing that in your present state & location you were quick to empathize with the final line! May you and Matthew have such joy.