Beast From The East

March

Poetic Beats

Welcome to this week’s Poetic Beats with Howard Bond and Davy D, recorded on the 5th of March 2018 on Red Kite Radio.

On today’s episode we celebrate the arrival of the meteorological start of Spring in the UK with the poem March, by Celia Thaxter.  After a week of living with the “Beast From The East” Winter is still with us. According to the astronomical calendar Winter doesn’t start in the Northern Hemisphere until the Vernal Equinox on the 20.03.18, so we have a few cold weeks to go yet.

If you have difficulty listening to the programme a text version of the poem is included after the sound bar.

To hear this episode of Poetic Beats please press the arrow to the left of the sound bar below.

 

 

March

I wonder what spendthrift chose to spill

Such bright gold under my window-sill!

Is it fairy gold?    Does it glitter still?

Bless me! it is a daffodil!

 

And look at the crocuses keeping tryst

With the daffodil by the sunshine kissed.

Like beautiful bubbles of amethyst

They seem, blown out of the earth’s snow-mist.

 

And snowdrops’ delicate fairy bells

With a pale green tint like the ocean swells;

And the hyacinths wearing their perfumed spells!

The ground is a rainbow of asphodels!

 

Who said that March was a scold and a shrew?

Who said she had nothing on earth to do

But tempests and furies and tempests to brew?

Why, look at the wealth she has lavished on you!

 

O March that blusters and March that blows,

What colour under your footsteps glows!

Beauty you summon from winter snows,

And you are the pathway that leads to the rose.

 

CELIA THAXTER.

#BeastFromTheEast

Beast From the East

It’s the first day of calendar Spring and the UK is in crisis. I’m not talking about Brexit, it is much more serious. We are in the grip of a visit from The Beast From The East. Schools have been closed, flights and train journeys cancelled and there have been reports of hand to hand fighting in supermarkets as traumatised Brits rush to stockpile food for the impending doom.

Although the slight covering of snow sitting on the grass outside of the Poetry Den have left me a little perplexed as to the hysteria, watching and listening to the news bulletins provides plenty of material for the poet.  Which brings me to the focus for today’s Thursday Thoughts, Spring Poetry.

Spring provides so much for the poet to write about. The beautiful blooms of snowdrops set against dark soil, the gold tinge of daffodil stalks about to bloom; and the sudden change of pace of the Robins, Blackbirds and Thrush in preparation for the mating season.

There have been many wonderful poems written about Spring and I thought I would share one of mine, To Spring, by William Blake. I would love you to share your favourite Spring Poem (maybe one you have written yourself) in the comments section to this post. The beast is forecast to hit our village over the next few days and I might need some uplifting Spring poetry to raise my spirits. And to accompany having to break into the emergency rations of Malbec and chocolate.

 

To Spring

 

O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down

Through the clear windows of the morning, turn

Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,

Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

 

The hills tell one another, and the listening

Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn’d

Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth

And let thy holy feet visit our clime!

 

Come o’er the eastern hills, and let our winds

Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste

Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls

Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.

 

O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour

Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put

Thy golden crown upon her languish’d head,

Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.

 

William Blake.