A cruel winter cometh,
a cold winter cometh
It sifts through my spirit,
hefting it asunder
And I being part of all,
hale bear cruel cold winter.
In cold grey elastic hours
find joy in a momentary sun
or crouch covetous of warmth
lusty avaritia o’er scant logged ingle blaze
dragooned by desperation to construe
-accept cramped joy in warm memories
from dying embers of my love
and scant fires they retain
Lo ! am withered with waiting till my spring cometh!
Lo ! am withered and waiting for you!
(with sincerest apologies to Mr.Pound.
The title seemed tantalizing enough for a challenge.
Please- Stop turning in your grave sir!
In your own words,
We have but one sap and one root (I may be no Walt Whitman though)
– So let there be commerce between us)
Disclaimer:No poets,dead or alive were harmed in the making of this poem.
Disclaimer:The information contained here is strictly an intellectual exercise and frankly a practical joke , and it should be considered as entertainment and nothing more.None of this is advertised to be original in the strictest sense of originality,but an amalgamation of various well known poems of the past.But I’m bloody proud of the end product.