'... which bards
in fealty
to Apollo hold'
December
is the sunset
of the year,
a bit of golden
frippery
hung about its neck,
glittering
glistening
asparkle
in the dark
that seems to
get darker and darker
(Ukraine
Syria
Iraq
Israel)
'Peace on the earth'
is only an island
in the Sea of Time
an Eden
yet to be
restored,
in some cloudy future
a strand of clear air,
but for now
only a prayer.
Aloha Frank... I vow... to not lay on the lauds to loudly... another fine and relative read... I have enjoyed these past few moments immensely... rest assured, Mother's garden will collect her due... How is your Cribbage game? All of the best from this life, to you, and all of your relations... Michael.
More readers should pay attention to your poetry..lovely poem..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I caught immediately the Keats allusion! The landscapes which he apprehended imaginatively as REALMS OF GOLD are now impoverished and embattled. So the places Keats idealized are now only illusions of past glory. It makes one nostalgic for the Pax Romana. Your muted evocation of December alerts us to both winter and Christmas - and yet another ideal of peace not realized. But this poem moves with such quiet grace or majesty (maybe both) that our sorrow is transmuted into HOPE.