Don Paterson

(1963 - / Dundee / Scotland)

Poetry


In the same way that the mindless diamond keeps
one spark of the planet's early fires
trapped forever in its net of ice,
it's not love's later heat that poetry holds,
but the atom of the love that drew it forth
from the silence: so if the bright coal of his love
begins to smoulder, the poet hears his voice
suddenly forced, like a bar-room singer's -- boastful
with his own huge feeling, or drowned by violins;
but if it yields a steadier light, he knows
the pure verse, when it finally comes, will sound
like a mountain spring, anonymous and serene.

Beneath the blue oblivious sky, the water
sings of nothing, not your name, not mine.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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Read poems about / on: poetry, silence, spring, water, sky, light, love, fire

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  • * Sunprincess * (4/5/2014 9:29:00 PM)

    .......a beautiful write...I love mountain springs...they are special....I know where a few are...enjoyed this write.. (Report) Reply

  • Jason Minihane (1/21/2009 5:09:00 PM)

    I don't think that this is neccessarily about love fading just that love at first is a lot more intense but when that initial passion passes love becomes something more not as noticable to the world but more serene, thats my interpretation for what it's worth. (Report) Reply

  • Sean Godley (3/7/2007 2:14:00 PM)

    I liked this poem. It's sad how loves fades indeed. I think the poet intended us to understand more than that though, no? What if the smouldering is steady? (Report) Reply

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