Prompt April 8 2020

Image from Rickard A. Parker website.

“April is the cruellest month,” wrote T.S. Eliot in his long 5-section poem “Waste Land.” Here’s an excerpt from the first section.

For Ezra Pound
Il Miglior Fabbro

I. The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

This particular April of 2020 seems to be difficult, but why would Eliot or rather the speaker of the poem call April the cruelest month? Much activity takes place in nature during spring and there’s work to be done. The cozy winter days of inactivity, dormancy are coming to an end and the lilacs are blooming. There’s no time for story-telling and leisure. How do you feel about the spring, about April? Can you flip the first line on its head and write a poem about the kindness of April?

As usual, you can post your poem here if you like. You will need a password. Write to theliterarynest@gmail.com if you need the password.

One thought on “Prompt April 8 2020”

  1. Let Evening Come

    Let the light of late afternoon
    shine through chinks in the barn, moving
    up the bales as the sun moves down.

    Let the cricket take up chafing
    as a woman takes up her needles
    and her yarn. Let evening come.

    Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
    in long grass. Let the stars appear
    and the moon disclose her silver horn.

    Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
    Let the wind die down. Let the shed
    go black inside. Let evening come.

    To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
    in the oats, to air in the lung
    let evening come.

    Let it come, as it will, and don’t
    be afraid. God does not leave us
    comfortless, so let evening come.

    Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)

    Like

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