Small Boy
This week sees the centenary of the birth of the Scottish poet Norman MacCaig, 14th November 1910 to 23 January 1996. This poem is a perfect illustration of his lyric style; spare, vivid and evocative. And I don't think I need to explain the image this poem evokes for me.
~ Small Boy ~
He picked up a pebble
and threw it into the sea.
And another, and another.
He couldn't stop.
He wasn't trying to fill the sea.
He wasn't trying to empty the beach.
He was just throwing away,
nothing else but.
Like a kitten playing
he was practising for the future
when there'll be so many things
he'll want to throw away
if only his fingers will unclench
and let them go.
From Voice-Over, 1988.
~ Small Boy ~
He picked up a pebble
and threw it into the sea.
And another, and another.
He couldn't stop.
He wasn't trying to fill the sea.
He wasn't trying to empty the beach.
He was just throwing away,
nothing else but.
Like a kitten playing
he was practising for the future
when there'll be so many things
he'll want to throw away
if only his fingers will unclench
and let them go.
From Voice-Over, 1988.