Down by the river in Battery Point, you can see the oddest colours just underneath the surface of the water.
This of course presents an entirely natural introduction to today's entry in the Saturday Festival of *someone else's* Poetry!
Well Water, by Randall Jarrell
What a girl called "the dailiness of life"
(Adding an errand to your errand. Saying,
"Since you're up . . ." Making you a means to
A means to a means to) is well water
Pumped from an old well at the bottom of the world.
The pump you pump the water from is rusty
And hard to move and absurd, a squirrel-wheel
A sick squirrel turns slowly, through the sunny
Inexorable hours. And yet sometimes
The wheel turns of its own weight, the rusty
Pump pumps over your sweating face the clear
Water, cold, so cold! you cup your hands
And gulp from them the dailiness of life.
8 comments:
wow, i like this bloke's stuff...has he got more somewhere?
Fantastic photo!
Hi! Kris,
What a beautiful photograph...it reminds me of a Monet painting. Very interesting quote and a nice poem by Randell Jarrell.
Thanks, for sharing!
DeeDee ;-D
That is a really fantastic photo. I wish I'd taken it.
Tom, I always feel bad that for all of his works, I can't go past Death of a Ball Turret Gunner:
"From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose."
Sue, thanks!
DeeDee, I am quite the Monet fan.
Jackie, feel free to take a similar one and pass it off as your idea!
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