Happy Birthday Dylan Thomas (born on this day in 1913) - an apt poem for this day! Especially When the October Wind Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast a shadow crab upon the land, By the seas side, hearing the noise of birds, Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks, My busy heart who shudders as she talks Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words. Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark On the horizon walking like the trees The wordy shapes of women, and the rows Of the star-gestured children in the park. Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches, Some of the oaken voices, from the roots Of many a thorny shire tell you notes, Some let me make you of the waters speeches. Behind a pot of ferns the wagging clock Tells me the hours word, the neural meaning Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning And tells the windy weather in the cock. Some let me make you of the meadows signs; The signal grass that tells me all I know Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye. Some let me tell you of the ravens sins. Especially when the October wind (Some let me make you of autumnal spells, The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales) With fists of turnips punishes the land, Some let me make you of the heartless words. The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury. By the seas side hear the dark-vowelled birds. Dylan Thomas
Posted on: Sun, 27 Oct 2013 16:47:22 +0000
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