♕ |[62]| Unreal City, Under the brown fog of a winter dawn

[had_not_lived]

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.
Ever since I read that I can't help thinking of it in April. I don't think I agree. Maybe April's cruel here-- any month

Comments

[repeatshimself]

April needs to sharpen up, in that poem.

[had_not_lived]

I think that's the poet's problem-- April causes too much of a fuss.

[repeatshimself]

Have I mentioned lately that I almost failed the poetry part of English?

[had_not_lived]

Why?

[nosferotofu]

I don't know if I'd call it sad.

[had_not_lived]

No?

[shifts]

What's the rest of it?

[had_not_lived]

It's really long; it's called The Waste Land.

[shifts]

Would the library have it, then?

[had_not_lived]

I'm sure it would. The author's T.S. Eliot.

Are you a poetry fan?

[had_not_lived]

I am not.

[had_not_lived]

So? That doesn't mean I have to like it.

[primrosella]

I think your poet has it just the opposite, really. I'm rather of the opinion that seeing the flowers come up through the ice and snow is a lovely thing, not a cruel one.

[had_not_lived]

That's how I feel about it, too-- I don't think I like being covered in forgetful snow much at all.

[primrosella]

I doubt anyone would. How much further does the poem go on?

[had_not_lived]

It's very long-- it's in five parts-- but it jumps around, it's not all about spring.