May Swenson

(May 28, 1913 – December 4, 1989 / Utah)

Question


Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye

With cloud for shift
how will I hide?

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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Read poems about / on: horse, dog, house, sleep, wind, sky, hunting

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Comments about this poem (Question by May Swenson )

  • Gold Star - 37,196 Points Aftab Alam Khursheed (10/31/2014 10:02:00 AM)

    Body as house for soul and thought is horse and mind 's envelop is greed when dog dies greed die but when body is ruined- buried the soul is without umbrella - no place to hide a nice question - when body is ruined and soul is homeless then can we change the body to hide as an umbrell - something like tis mystery is hid (Report) Reply

  • Freshman - 1,282 Points Oilibheir Álain Christie (10/31/2014 9:59:00 AM)

    Question indeed! But everything comes in due time. We would always like to know in advance. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 60 Points Sharvali Shinde (10/31/2014 7:02:00 AM)

    It will be really very cool to lie in the sky.....but without roof & door you will be blown away! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! (by the wind) (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 15,972 Points Mandolyn ... (10/27/2014 6:36:00 PM)

    THIS is good poetry. Never heard of this poet til just now and I'm happy I came across this. (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 10,411 Points * Sunprincess * (11/25/2013 12:54:00 PM)

    a mysterious question which there is no answer... (Report) Reply

  • Freshman - 1,635 Points Smoky Hoss (10/31/2013 7:28:00 PM)

    What shall become of the soul, really, when the body no longer controls/contains it? (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 41 Points Percy Dovetonsils (3/6/2007 4:25:00 PM)

    May Swenson (1913-1989)


    I wonder what it would be like
    to love May Swenson
    now that she hides in the wind.

    Lying in the sky
    wearing clouds for a shift
    she solemnly smiles
    through the mist.
    I hear her throb
    in the blood
    of my ears.
    She tickles
    the hairs
    on my wrist.


    “You’re not alone
    it only seems
    that way.
    I’m with you
    every moment
    of the day.” (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Laurie Carter (12/29/2006 1:45:00 PM)

    'Question' affects me deeply because Ms. Swenson doesn't provide an answer, or a tidy solution, and it helps that her use of poetic devices is masterful.
    This poem is heartbreakingly sad and poignant, it makes me run to Gerard Manley Hopkins for comfortable answers, even though his 'Margaret are you grieving...' has the same theme. (Report) Reply

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