CLXXXXVII

Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

We talk about the aching beauty of Nature.  Sometimes, it’s not a metaphor.

LAMENT

The mole was dead upon the ground;

He did not move when he was poked.

His coat was sleek, his body round,

His life revoked.

 

His parts seemed not to coincide:

His hands were stuck on at the wrist;

He was long-nosed and squinty-eyed,

A humorist.

 

He looked too healthy to be dead;

His feet were white, his face was droll,

But he was tragic dust instead

Of comic mole.

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!

Donald T. Williams, PhD

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About gandalf30598

Theologian, philosopher, poet, and critic; minister of the Gospel who makes his living by teaching medieval and renaissance literature; dual citizen of Narnia and Middle Earth.

Posted on July 13, 2017, in Donald Williams, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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