Sunday, December 10, 2017

Demeter’s Sorrow





Autumn arrives in red-leaved clusters
creating its own frisson, breath suspended,
pontoons adrift,

gathering pockets of earth unto herself
cradling each,
a palette of promised renewal, veiled
by unshed tears.

Demeter sadly holds out dying grasses
toward the evening’s whisper of winter,
the time of waiting, the donning of white down,
eclipsing the sun
until shoots of spring herald joy’s return.



Audrey Howitt copyright/all rights reserved 2017

originally published in Greek Fire, Lost Tower Publications,

ISBN 13 978-1508589853

Posted today for Poets United Pantry
and for dVerse

24 comments:

  1. Oh, the language in this poem is so lovely, the "palette of promised renewal," the "dying grasses toward the evening's whisper of winter"........loved it.

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  2. Audrey, you have captured very well the autumn feeling. And we all can look forward to that promised renewal...the spring that will always come!

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  3. That was wonderful!
    Interesting use of "Demeter "sadly holds out dying grasses""
    ZQ

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  4. This time of year always rings of death to me.
    Of holding your breath, in waiting. There is so much anticipation. For the holidays. For Christmas. For a new year. Ultimately for it all to be over. To get warm again. For new life.

    It snowed here this weekend. The fields look like iced oatmeal.

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  5. I really did enjoy your well crafted poem. For me you've painted such an image with you final stanza.

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  6. You have captured both the sadness of the dying and the hope of renewal in your words. Soon we pass the darkest time.

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  7. Beautifully captures the somewhat wistful aspect to this 'waiting' season. Lovely word crafting in this.

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  8. ...and here we donned our "white gown" yesterday. The first snow is always a promise of new beginnings.

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  9. Love how you've captivated the passage of time in its glory. In our part of the world (so, so hot) we wait for the whole year to listen to the whisper of winter. It is a whisper only, no donning of white gown nor the voice louder.

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  10. It's those seven pomegranate seeds which impregnate Demeter with this earthly sorrow, this grief of winter we feel so keenly as light drains from the rooks. How can there be rebirth without rites of dying? We have to hold that winter in us in Her name, for seven months of forsaken light, so that the return of light springs forth like freed water. Thanks for crafting an altar here, Audrey.

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  11. I saw this read on stage with as part of a full production and with a dramatic set.

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  12. Real seasonal shifts of presence captured here - enjoyed to very much Audrey....

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  13. I love autumn colors, though the leaves and grasses are dying ~ Can't wait for the spring to return once more ~

    Wishing you and your family Happy Holidays Audrey!

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  14. I love the beauty of that opening stanza...and all your seasonal descriptions.

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  15. Death in life and life in death. Beautifully done.

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  16. This does ring of the last tiny bit of autumn - hear all the fields and lawn grasses are brown, covered with bits of frozen snow. The solstice of winter will be here soon! Holiday and new years blessings.

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  17. the "palette of promised renewal," the "dying grasses toward the evening's whisper of winter".. sigh.. love this!

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  18. I liked this line: "Demeter sadly holds out dying grasses"

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  19. There is a beautiful gentle calm to your words Audrey. How I wait for those wonderful shoots of spring, the heralding of new life and what is to become.
    Merry Christmas!
    Anna :o]

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  20. the time of waiting, the donning of white down,
    eclipsing the sun
    until shoots of spring herald joy’s return.

    How nice to anticipate the coming of Spring at an early hour!

    Hank

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  21. Such a beautiful play on the story of Demeter and her role in the cycles of the seasons. Your descriptions sparkle.

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I appreciate your comments and thoughts--thank you for stopping by! I don't always reply here, but always try to reciprocate--so hang in there, I will be over to your blog in a jiffy!