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« On "My Life in CIA" by Harry Mathews [by Richard Beard] | Main | Conversation by the Sea [by Vincent Katz] »

December 27, 2020

Comments

I really enjoyed this wintry, taut, & mysterious poem. Thank you, Terence.

Pure music on ice. And a beautiful cautionary poem which promises a happy ending if we obey beauty.

WOW! I love it. Tina Darragh

Thanks, David, but where have I heard that apt description before?


Thanks, Grace. (But it's okay to disobey beauty once in a while, right?)


Thanks, Tina. I love it too.

ah, the subtle brilliance of Beth's rhythms and breath in her lines, and deep images...how satisfying to savor...

when I read Beth's poems I often think she's written them just for me. This one is no exception.Thank you.

Beautiful and haunting. Wonderful poem!

The perfect poem for a cold Sunday afternoon while waiting for the fire to catch in our cast iron stove.

For me, this poem is rich with deep purpose that may bring hope fulfilled and lived.

Beautiful! A mysterious journey as if I were there feeling both the cold and comfort.

Lovely poem.

Beth Joselow's poems always enchant. They paint a picture in words so vivid and clear. Wonderful work!

I love the way you write Beth. How sweet to see this on a Seattle Sunday morning. When one really great poem leads to to another (see below) I know life is good. So good to see your lovely face. Ti amo! Onward!
SVT

It's wonderful
Everywhere, so white
The river has frozen over
Not a soul on the ice
Only me skating fast
I'm speeding past trees
Leaving little lines in the ice
Cutting out little lines in the ice
Splitting, splitting sound
Silver heels spitting, spitting snow
There's something moving under
Under the ice, moving under ice
Through water
Trying to get out of the cold water
(It's me)
(It's me)
Something, someone help them
(It's me)

Writer: Kate Bush

I love the promise of a tale to tell. Did the picture inspire the poem, or the poem the pix?

The photo was something I pulled off the Internet this morning.

This resonates with me during this chilly year as I, too, feel like I'm being ferried over a glass canyon hoping to make it across while carving out a story worth telling.

Not fear so much as determination to exist, as safely as possible, in the moment, until the terrible beautiful journey is in the past. Yes. Resonates.

I love this poem, and many of the comments made about it here. The poem brings me into a specific instant moment smoothly, and in the background, I wonder where, and how, and why.

I loved all the feelings this poem evoked, Beth, the frigid beauty, the power of the dogs, the vulnerability of being alone at the mercy of the journey. I could even imagine the stars above as I read it, even though there is no mention of time of day.
I also enjoyed all the comments. Brava!

Beautiful poem

Beautiful Beth.

All things winter. Stillness. Fear. Depth. Holding of breathe...waiting to exhale in spring. Cautionary tale... inspiration. Possibilities. Barren and beauty.

Beth!!!!

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