This is not a blog.
I have something I want to post but I'm at someone's mercy.... --public guilt complex, the possibilities of the internet are amazing aren't they?-- ...so until I have the goods in hand and the go ahead I will wait.
For now, something for the bored to nibble on. I went back and looked at "Gerontion" after I saw that older poem of mine about the Kissing Grandmother, and some lines stood out. (And there are only about 3-4 entries in the contest to name this whole whacky season of my life or my writing/non-writing, whatever it turns out to be, and I'm hoping I'll get more from people.)
If "The Wasteland" is the poem of April, then "Gerontion" might be called the poem of May. Perhaps it doesn't have to be about old age, it might well be middle age, but either way it's filled with musings on youth and decay, age and what one can expect, what one can expect from history at the end of life, and the mind as it "dries" out and thinks dry thoughts in this season. So with that some lines about how to reminisce.
from "Gerontion"
..............................................Think
Neither fear nor courage saves us. Unnatural vices
Are fathered by our heroism. Virtues
Are forced upon us by our impudent crimes.
These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree. (1920)
(T.S. EliotComplete Poems and Plays, 1909-1950 22)
Franky Scale, so far: 5/6 (partially explained by not enough coffee yet)
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