Wasted Poem by Kingsley Amis

Wasted

Rating: 3.3


That cold winter evening
The fire would not draw,
And the whole family hung
Over the dismal grate
Where rain-soaked logs
Bubbled, hissed and steamed.
Then, when the others had gone
Up to their chilly beds,
And I was ready to go,
The wood began to flame
In clear rose and violet,
Heating the small hearth.

Why should that memory cling
Now the children are all grown up,
And the house - a different house -
Is warm at any season?

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Edward Kofi Louis 21 April 2016

Up to their chilly beds! ! With the muse of nature. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

1 2 Reply
Kim Barney 21 April 2016

Very nice poem (much better than the 5.5 rating given by the 11 voters so far) , telling a good story, but I don't see why he gave it that title.

2 0 Reply
Barry Middleton 21 April 2016

I don't understand why people rate famous poets to low in general. As for the title, perhaps he is saying the fire, which eventually catches, was wasted because the children were gone to sleep. Now, in the present, the children are grown and gone, the house is always warm but because they are gone that fire is also wasted in some respect?

0 0
Denis Mair 21 April 2016

Perhaps the trauma of feeling cold in childhood left him with this recurrent memory. His body craved warmth so much that he remembers the cheerful beauty of those rising flames. However, he cannot share such a memory with his children. They would not understand because they have grown up in a comfortably warm house. Even he realizes that this recurrent memory does not apply to his current situation, so in a sense such a memory is wasted

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Stephen W 21 April 2016

A rare excellent comment by Barry Middleton: -)

0 0
Ratnakar Mandlik 21 April 2016

A pleasing stroll down the memory lane. Thanks for sharing.10 points.

1 0 Reply
Anil Kumar Panda 21 April 2016

Change of time. Only memory remains. Very nice.

0 0 Reply
Amar Agarwala 21 April 2016

Soothing and meaningful!

0 0 Reply
Susan Williams 21 April 2016

It is a good thing that a poem makes the reader wonder over its words and discuss them with their friends. This one resonates with me and that is why it is written- -to resonate with its readers for personal reasons as well as its author's. For me, the house they grew up in changed when it no longer rang with their child voices- whether it was an altogether different home or the same home that they grew up in doesn't change that hollow feeling. {I think he moved to Florida or Hawaii where it is warm all the time. :) ]

13 0 Reply
Kenneth Maswabi 21 April 2016

The memory clings to remind you of the treasures in your life. Thank you.

1 1 Reply
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