this conflagration
HELLO AND WELCOME TO NATIONAL POETRY MONTH.
(This seems like a good time to remind anyone who is still reading me here that aside from National Poetry Month-and even including National Poetry Month, since I crosspost-I am best found on tumblr and twitter.)
This year marks the ninth year I have celebrated National Poetry Month by posting (more or less) a poem a day for the month of April. Olivia/National Poetry Month is probably my forever OTP. The rules are fairly straightforward: there will be something approximating a poem a day from today until the end of the month. I am both eclectic and predictable. I try not to repeat poets within the course of the month, and I try not to repeat poems I have posted in previous years, but I definitely do not promise not to break my own rules. The poems, and occasionally the commentary, will be behind a cut tag here on DW and LJ. All poetry month posts are tagged the cruelest month. All poetry will be crossposted to tumblr where poetry will also be tagged the cruelest month, and the tumblr posts will be linked from my twitter. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please don't hesitate to ask!
Starting the month with D.H. Lawrence seems like it might be inviting trouble, but the heart wants what it wants.
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.
And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.
-D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930), "The Enkindled Spring," from Amores, 1916.
Originally posted at oliviacirce @ dreamwidth. If you'd like, comment there using OpenID.
(This seems like a good time to remind anyone who is still reading me here that aside from National Poetry Month-and even including National Poetry Month, since I crosspost-I am best found on tumblr and twitter.)
This year marks the ninth year I have celebrated National Poetry Month by posting (more or less) a poem a day for the month of April. Olivia/National Poetry Month is probably my forever OTP. The rules are fairly straightforward: there will be something approximating a poem a day from today until the end of the month. I am both eclectic and predictable. I try not to repeat poets within the course of the month, and I try not to repeat poems I have posted in previous years, but I definitely do not promise not to break my own rules. The poems, and occasionally the commentary, will be behind a cut tag here on DW and LJ. All poetry month posts are tagged the cruelest month. All poetry will be crossposted to tumblr where poetry will also be tagged the cruelest month, and the tumblr posts will be linked from my twitter. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please don't hesitate to ask!
Starting the month with D.H. Lawrence seems like it might be inviting trouble, but the heart wants what it wants.
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.
And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.
-D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930), "The Enkindled Spring," from Amores, 1916.
Originally posted at oliviacirce @ dreamwidth. If you'd like, comment there using OpenID.