Winter's Come

Winters come and trampled over Summers madness.
Winters come and trampled over Summers madness.

 

Winter’s come and trampled over Summer’s madness.

But care not.

The cup of youth is o’er turned

And life’s sweet liquor spilt on unredeeming earth

But care not.

The dreams and joys of youth

Are o’er the memories of age,

And e’en before the time of harvest,

And the gathering in,

The grain be mouldy in the ear;

And love’s sweet labour comes to nought.

And the time of singing is at an end
And the time of singing is at an end

 

I have sold my youth to buy a sterile gladness

But care not.

And the time of singing is at an end

But comes dull reason

To bind and hold within

But care not.

 

And e’en before the sun

That sinks upon a careless world

Arises on the morrow,

It shines on all the Hosts of Death.

 

I have wept hot tears over a broken idol.

But care not.

I have torn my lips in my frustration,

And brought my soul and body

To a lonely couch.

 

But care not. 

And the sweet pure dreams

That passed with yesterday’s dawn

Are now the savage phantoms

Of a sleepless night.

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Comments 36 comments

BenWritings profile image

BenWritings 5 years ago from Save me from, Tennessee

This is fascinating, tormented, and awesome. I can't figure out for sure what it's referring to though. In ways, it seems like it's talking about a romance that has ended, but it seems to have spiritual meaning as well ( Hosts of Death, Idol )

Very well written, and draws my curiosity. Very cool.


Randy Behavior profile image

Randy Behavior 5 years ago from Near the Ocean

Hmmmm, think I'm gonna have to read this a few more times.


Randy Behavior profile image

Randy Behavior 5 years ago from Near the Ocean

So many possibilities... actual death of a lover or just the love there in, or the comparison of death and dying in nature to that of plans for the future. Care not?... but I do, can't help it.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

That's what my teachers at school used to say, Randy. "Read it and read it again, until you get the full meaning".

Yeah right!!! I used to think, "Time's too precious, Mate. YOU read it as many times as you want... let me be".

Thanks for being brave and reading it at least a couple of times. Top of the class for you.

OK, it soudns as if I don't, but I really appreciate your comments. Thank you.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Ben, I wrote this poem when I was about twenty and I have had quite some time to look at it and wonder what I meant when I wrote it. I have a friend who collected, rescued, tabulated, everything about my writings, and you have her to thank… or hate for that.

I don’t know if you really want to be told what it is all about. I have my ideas. But is it worth it?

To me, it is, but until recently it didn't see the light of day since a long time agao, and it’s almost a new experience.

Suffice to say that one or two of your poems have reminded me of it.


Nellieanna profile image

Nellieanna 5 years ago from TEXAS

What a masterful line: "Winter’s come and trampled over Summer’s madness." It is so descriptive.

i feel somewhat relieved at your saying you wrote this a few years back, Ian. Such a tortured, near hopelessness would be unbearable. It is well worth rereading repeatedly.

Somehow I sense, whether fictional or in fact, the identity of the broken idol is not a failed love affair, but someone or something so deeply and viscerally revered that its suden fall and loss - . are irreparable tears in your own being. Possibly the actual events were not sudden, but their revelation to the narrator was sudden and still raw. The "Care not" seems to be denial, refusal to deal further with the wound and scars, though they haunt anyway.

Presumptuous of me, hum? Very powerful verse.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Nellie, I bet you got top marks in English poetry, both Written and Comprehension, didn't you?

I think you must have!

I'm not sure, but I think that this was my first attempt at poetry. Remember my saying that it would be nice for us to sit over coffee with Hanifa and Christine, and talk and talk and drink black coffee and listen to Nina Simone, and maybe Dave Brubeck? That was where it all started, and fifty years later, I am just beginning to bring it out into the light of day.


Sunnie Day 5 years ago

Beautiful Twilight,

It truly had me memorized. I did read over and over and thought it meant one thing but re-read and now I believe it is talking about possibly someone who has maybe given up their youth for work, for materilism maybe? They now find themselves alone and it was for nothing because we all face death in the end? BUT then maybe not..:)

I loved it. Wow!

Sunnie


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Thank you Sunnie for considering it worthy of reading more than once. It is proving quite a challenge, isn't it. I am beginning to question parts of it myself. I always thought that poetry could only be interpreted the way the poet understood it when she/he was writing it. I was wrong... we are forever on a learning curve. Thank you, Sunnie, and everybody else, for pointing that out to me.


Sunnie Day 5 years ago

Dear Twilight,

May I add one more comment. I think that is what keeps life so sweet. Beauty and interpretation is in the eye of the beholder.

Thanks so much for sharing your gift.

Sunnie


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

May I add one more comment... Thank you for your attention and praise. It would be pointless of anyone to write something that didn't touch at least one chord; didn't pluck one heart-string; didn't make one mouth smile; didn't make one tear drop.

Just as your lovely welcome to the returning robin, that really touched me so deeply this morning.


Nellieanna profile image

Nellieanna 5 years ago from TEXAS

I don't remember - it's been so long ago! I remember reading and getting "The Raven" and "How Do I Love Thee", but the only mark on any of my own writing I remember was a comment in the margin saying "SWEEPING ASSERTION!" and an A- at the top, courtesy of Miss Williams in 8th grade. tee hee (I thought it was a reasonable assertion!)

Hm. And all the time I thought the scene at the coffee shop with you and Nina Simone was spur of the moment and just for me. boo hoo! Well, ok - so long as I play a small role in your coming out of your shell! Hugs and smiles.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

No. The 'Pot' was the place to be if one was anyone. I wish I were there with Christine and Hanifa and you. They are all part of my personal history; the personal history that contributes to what is me.

Now a flood of names and incidents pour out of my subconscious, crying out, "Me! Me! What about me?" and I wonder why I ever make up stories when I am writing. There are, and were, so many incidents... Ah! That I were not so lazy.

I am having so much trouble writing, right now. I open up ‘The Potter’ and look over the sections and get involved in reading what I have written, forgetting that I am trying to add to what I have written already.

I actually have three or four bits of writing on the go, and I have never been like this before. I can’t read more than one novel or short story at a time… impossible.

‘The Potter’, ‘Setrag Comes to Tea’, ‘The Well in Pollone’, ‘Chand’ and ‘Pippa’


Genna East profile image

Genna East 5 years ago from Massachusetts, USA

Very powerful words that speak of a youthful mind that is angry and has lost an innocence and trust that youth had assumed or was promised. Just a guess. :) Good poem!


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Thank you, Genna. A guess, and a very good guess, I feel. I'm really enjoying the feedback, and thank you loads, for your perception.

The next time I see William Shakespeare, I'll ask him if he had such immediate responses when he posted his Sonnets and love poems on the Internet.

If he didn't, then I'm the lucky one.


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

Right, well, I'm not very good at poetry, I'll be honest. I've never been very good at 'getting' it, and I'll be honest again that I really don't have much of a clue what this 'ere poem is on about. But I will say this! I like it, very much indeed, and I do believe that it is very beautiful, and that you are very clever for writing it. I am going to bookmark it, and read it again at my leisure to see if I can fathom its meaning a little bit.

Linda.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Oh Linda, I really do love that comment. I am giggling away here and smiling like an absolute fool (Are there degrees to being a fool?).

Thank you ever so much for that comment... (I'm still giggling).


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

Shakespeare on the internet, oh, now I am the giggling fool!! You are funny :D

Lx.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

You're a brave Lady who doesn't like this 'ere poetry stuff... coming back for second helpings. Thanks, Linda.

Glad I could make you smile.


kallini2010 profile image

kallini2010 5 years ago from Toronto, Canada

"I have sold my youth to buy a sterile gladness

But care not."

It's very interesting poem, Ian.

".. the sweet pure dreams

That passed with yesterday’s dawn

Are now the savage phantoms ..."

I promise "to care not", but how do you transform sweetness and purity into savagery?

Can I buy some of that "sterile gladness" everybody is so fond of? I have nothing to offer, though, my youth has gone. "But care not".

I liked it, well done, Ian.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Svetlana, all these conflicting sentiments and silent weepings are readily available in youth (and in our local shop). Unfortunately, I have found some pretty hefty vestiges remaining in my mind and soul.

It's old (the poem, not my soul), but it seems to have withstood the test of time.


kallini2010 profile image

kallini2010 5 years ago from Toronto, Canada

I actually liked it, maybe it does not show in the comment. Weepings? We all have them - especially me now - it goes like that - "Oh, God, what is wrong with me?"

But care not.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

I am wondering if that is going to be your personal mantra for a couple of days: "But care not".

It certainly helps when the whole world seems to walking to the wrong drum beat... well it helps me.


Doug Turner Jr. 5 years ago

Yes. This was the poem I was looking for from you. Reading some of your work the other day, I was impressed, but I also saw a poem like this lurking somewhere behind the lines. And here it is.

This is haunting and thoughtful; filled with an existential sadness, if you will. You're very open with nostalgia and longing for lost days. "traded youth for a sterile gladness" -- a strong sentiment. Very well done.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Thank you Doug. Positive comments gratefully accepted. Keep looking, and I hope you find some more that you will like... I certainly am very impressed with what I have read of yours.

Ian


kallini2010 profile image

kallini2010 5 years ago from Toronto, Canada

I like repetitions, they strengthen the message. In movies they are called motifs (motives?), I am not quite sure (yet I don't want to challenge my computer now - as I said it might give up on me any second now). It got infected and runs "God knows what" occupying 99% of its memory with some unidentifiable garbage. In a sense it went crazy. How ironic is that? In a sense our heads are infected with garbage and it runs there freely and occupies resources making them unavailable for sound thinking about things that matter. But care not.

It should be my mantra. Since I lost my job and it does not feel so good to be rejected, I am trying not to think about it. "Don't take it personally". Well, it is up close and personal. So, "But care not" sounds quite charming.

There is another reason, of course. I tend to be too "thin-skinned", things upset me more than others. Pain threshold is different for everyone, I am way too sensitive, but I am working on that. I just liked it "But care not" better than "I don't care!", "I could not care less!"

Sometimes I like the simplicity better, the mindless simplicity. Sometimes it just feels stronger.

But is not poetry about feelings rather than reasoning? Your feelings when you write it might be quite different from mine when I read it (I am pretty sure that same goes for every reader). Your writing comes alive every time anybody reads your poem, otherwise it does not exist. Every time I utter "But care not" I remember you and your poem and get closer to a bliss of being above petty feelings of anger and self-pity or the need to prove something to someone.

Remember, I told you about the novel by Victor Pelevin "T". That is the idea, the reader is the light that makes a page visible (things only exist in perception). I know, it is taking us slightly too far, but I like it still. Better think about philosophy than stand hours on end in an empty store and try expressing enthusiasm about clothes that are overpriced and don't matter all that much. Even if they were fabulous. They are not!

*********************************************************

You are not just a line in a Book of Life, but its reader. That light that makes a page visible. But the essence of all the earth stories is that this eternal light drags itself after the daub of worthless authors and is not capable of rising itself to its real fate – until it would be mentioned in the Book… – However, only light can know, the destiny of light. (Pelevin "T")

*********************************************************


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Your statement that, "Your writing comes alive every time anybody reads your poem, otherwise it does not exist" made me think of the idea that if a tree falls in the middle of a vast and otherwise empty forest, does it make a sound? (I must make the codicil that is nobody hears it)

When I was doing a Mathematics Diploma some years back, the lecturer (an Hungarian - possibly the top mathematician in this country) said that in Space, Mathematics does not exist.

If no-one read my poetry, it would not be worth the paper it was written on.


kallini2010 profile image

kallini2010 5 years ago from Toronto, Canada

Ian, you know that your poetry is being read.

The paper? I don't see your papers or that forest they came from. I am connected to you through electronic world or wires. That ugly picture of the back or inside of a computer? That is the hard essence of our connection.

You know what that statement means. When the book is closed and nobody reads (it does exist, but only as a hardware, paper and meaningless characters). Imagine for a second all humans forgot English, they cannot read it (like Egyptian), would your poetry or anybody's exist? Will it come alive? It changes its quality, its substance.

What you forget is that we give meanings to things, it is our consciousness. A bird sings a song, but it does not ask "Does God exist?" in English. In Finch(ian)? Nightinggale(ian)?

It is not an easy concept to accept, yet it is true. We get lost in our own minds. The universe exists physically according to mathematics laws, yet it does not contemplate about those laws or the ways how to express them on paper. Formulas, anyone?


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Svetlana, you think and emote like a poet, and yet you speak and rationalise as a scientist. Words, I am sure, form themselves in your heart, joyfully and with exuberance, and yet when they come out of your mouth, they walk out in orderly lines and take up positions almost as if they want to be in battle positions.

Perhaps, as in those gloriously uniformed armies of olden times, they dress themselves up in clean bright uniforms...

What am I doing? I'm rambling as if I’m going to write something beautifully deep and meaningful (Don't worry; I'm not)

I shall desist as of now.

STOPPED!


kallini2010 profile image

kallini2010 5 years ago from Toronto, Canada

Oh, Ian, please don't. You make me feel bad.

No wonder I am alienating everyone. Nobody is judging beauty or depth of writing, luckily there are no tools for measuring.

There are no grades. I give myself the same combination all the time -- "A" for courage, "C - " for performance.

It does not matter whether my words march or dance. I tend to illuminate things and then it becomes "torture" - too bright - it hurts!

I just read Nellieanna's comment on your other poetic hub and she sounds so feminine. And you are right, I am a general. On a horse? Oh, well. Still, I think we are on the same wavelength, so I will meet you in the outer space where we shall discuss the rules of non-existence. LOL. Would it not be fun for the "life after death" to exist and I hope I don't forget English by then.

There. I succumbed to complete nonsense.


Reflecting Pool profile image

Reflecting Pool 5 years ago from The other side of the coop

First.. congrats on passing the 50 hubs mark! WooHoo!

Second.. I've been away and you have garnered a few more followers whom I dearly adore (Hi Randy B!) WooHoo, again!

Third.. It matters to me not what the direct subject of this piece is directed to. It would fit, and speak so deeply in so many areas.. loss of love.. of self.. of memories.. and depending on where life has tossed me.. there is a goodbye waiting around the corner. This will fit there as well.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Candie, Yay! So glad to see you back. I thought you had run away or something worse. Glad to see you back in the saddle (if you are) and hope to hear from you lots more... we have a lot of catching up to do. Are you OK???


attemptedhumour profile image

attemptedhumour 5 years ago from Australia

It seems to me that you could be referring to the winding down of your life, as you enter your, well not final winter, but metaphorical winter, where you need a hot water bottle when you go to bed. A bit grim i suppose, if my hunch is right, and grim if i'm wrong too. Can't win, can I? And neither can you at your age, but you and I must keep plugging away anyway and make life one big holiday. Because as they say, there's no roof rack on a hearse. Cheers and top hole for the big ten thousand. It's a big achievement, but not as good as my tenth consecutive, indoor soccer, runners up medal. Guinness book here i come. Cheers


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Actually, Keith, I wrote this when I was twenty. I was just feeling pretty pissed off with the state of things.

I mean, West Australia has thousands of miles of white sandy beaches. The Indian Ocean was so warm you could stay in it all day. Summer seemed to last for about eight months of the year. Cigarettes were so cheap you had to search for "expensive" brands and Foreign tobaccos to force yourself to smoke them. Alcohol was almost as cheap as milk. I had the best friends in the world and went to parties about eight or nine days of every week. I had my dad's car to use more than he had it.

Of course I was pissed off. Life was hard.

Thanks for the congratulations.

I suppose that after your win you'll be running around with your shirt over your head and your family will be doing a Mexican wave.


snowdrops profile image

snowdrops 4 years ago from The Second Star to the Right

winter..the season i would love to feel and see..hopefully someday.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 4 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

I don't understand. But what is the point of being a snowdrop without Winter behind you.

I used to have snowdrops springing up in the shingle (gravel) in my garden, but for some reason, there have been none this year.

Would you like to come and take their place?

Thanks for the visit.

I hope you liked the poem.

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    This is one of a trio of poems that come roughly within the category of “Poems of Despair”.

    The other poems can be found at 'You are no more the light' and 'Chasm'.

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