Remembering Burnt Norton

Cherry

By Philip Sidney

Sat, 09 May 2015
  • 5313 reads
20 comments
 

We sat in the folly and light May rain

tip, tip, tapped through new-green leaves on old trees

 

a mingled scent of

soil, bluebells, mildew, memory

 

the Cotswold pile of honey-stone was not the thing at all

no

 

it was the poem and

something ineffable that it conjured

 

the words, the words

bring a young man back from death

 

his old bones no longer him but earth

Eliot skips across the lawn as

 

the actor speaks

‘all time is eternally present’

 

we who listen do not move

but separate as we drift though the time of our own universe

 

hear the echo of a thrush

laughter from far away in this place

 

think of how all that has been

is, still

 

all that might have been

is, too

 

words echo

around the stone

 

and we move on, a mess of colours

waxed-khaki, plastic-bright cagoules, floral brollies

 

too moved to speak

we walk in silence beneath an arboreal canopy

 

and note how even now

the past comes to us

 

as we become

the past.

Certificate 12
Poem

Comments

Submitted by london_calling79 on

So subtly sad. I got lost in the tips, taps, the echoes and my own memories.

 

Submitted by Bee on

Gentle rain, and atmospheric in shared memories. 'the past comes to us, as we become the past'. That's a wonderful obsevation. I found this piece very moving. 

Bee

Submitted by catherine poarch on

I loved the last two lines - the kind that make your brain turn slightly back to front. But the build up to them is done beautifully and with no rush and that's what makes them so effective.

 

Submitted by celticman on

yes, the past is the present in the present. 

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you so much all for the comments.

 

Thank you too for the lovely cherries. :)

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Liked the last 4 lines especially, though there is much to enjoy in your capturing of the scene and incident gently. My literal (?) mind doesn't see  'all that might have been is'' . unless it is in the sense of thinking of what might easily have been. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thanks Rhiannon, I was thinking that when regarding the past, the actual and the dreamt of are on a similar footing, we think back to both and carry the actual and that which had once been possibilty with us, not sure if that makes sense! :)

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Thanks, I can see where you're coming from! Rhiannon

 

Submitted by pumadelta on

A beautiful peice phillip...so atmospheric and philosophical...well done on the cherry!

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thanks pumadelta! :)

Submitted by jeand on

HI Helen

I read this (beautifully written) just after having gone to a 70th anniversary VE Day party, so it conjured up for me memories of those who didn't live to see the first one. There were certainly many brightly coloured bits of plastic on show - but also old photos, and shared stories.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Sounds like a wonderful event!

Submitted by VeraClark on

Potent and vivid with a grasp on the shifting concept of past.

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thank you Vera. :)

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

'...hear the echo of a thrush

laughter from far away in this place...'

For me, Philip, these two lines capture the essence of this truly remarkable poem. 

Tina

 

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

What  a lovely thing to say, thank you so much Tina. :)

Submitted by liplash on

this is a very beautiful poem. I read it out loud to my daughter who is studying John Donne and wanted her to hear something I liked.

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Such a lovely thing to say liplash, made me a little teary:)

Submitted by loquaciousicity on

"as we become the past"... splendid!

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Thanks Terry :)