This Day, This Age Poem by Frank Avon
This Day, This Age
Beyond a certain age
one lives each day -
a tiny goldfinch
is one's Gabriel,
a climbing rose,
Joseph's Coat -
and in one's winter
the beauty of all this,
all that's been,
a past that never existed.
To write up one's memories
is to believe
in the unbelievable,
what never was but is,
as children
Father Christmas
his crimson sleigh
a darksome forest
as elders
Xanadu. Jerusalem,
shadowlands, all Prelude,
'silent upon a peak in Darien, '
sunny domes, caves of ice,
Paradise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/19/2024 1:47:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This is just wonderful! When you write a lyric poem you don't make a false step, and it's illustrated in this one where all the elements occupy a privileged place but no one is allowed to dominate. And the natural world is suffused with a spiritual atmosphere which heightens its beauty and alerts us to the plus factor in the sensory world that indicates something more is present than just the material stratum we know through our senses. There is SOMETHING FAR MORE DEEPLY INTERFUSED. as Wordsworth wrote. This poem will make a fine accompaniment to the photo you described - word imagery and pictorial imagery in tandem.