Stormy weather

Photo by Breno Machado on Unsplash

 

In the year-of-our-Lord 1972,

there’s only so much reading one can do,

only so much listening to storms rumble in

from far horizons.

We think this earth is solid under us,

but talk to a seismologist,

then you’ll quake.

We carry this dream of solidity

through time and space: 

in hospital, at the grave-side, through tattered lace

everywhere our dream allows us to live.

Hoping, just hoping

that we’re travelling towards

 harbour

and not heading straight into

the eye of the storm.

 


 

◄ WOODY

Body on a beach ►

Comments

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John Marks

Wed 13th Jan 2021 22:39

Thank you Aviva, Jordyn, Philipos and Stephen. To answer your question Aviva: I had the second line before the first so it was partly the exigencies of rhyme. 1972 was also the year I left university to live and work in London. Also in 72 I first saw Bowie and first saw a cricket match at Lords. I was 21 in 1972 and had not yet experienced many storms but I was aware of their potential to destroy.
.

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Aviva Rifka Bhandari

Wed 13th Jan 2021 21:44

Is there a reason that you chose 1972, just curious because it happens to be the year I was born which happens to add an extra layer of meaning to all of the poem for me, but I'd like to know what the true reason for the choice was, if you're happy to tell us.

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Philipos

Wed 13th Jan 2021 21:00


Electrifying - enjoyed.

P

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