Beautiful images. No windows of Chartres could be so beautiful and fragment the light in such a way as the oak leaves in November as described in your poem.
In the last few stanzas, does the artist succeed in raising himself from the mud or rather become the poet/artist of the very mud and earth he is relegated to? I like that imagery a lot. An artist can aspire to rise above earth (or a tree climber for that matter), but he/she is ultimatley bound to the earth in all its guises. I think we need an ENTS book of poetry. I wrote lyrics for a folk song, so maybe that counts? Thanks so much, Jenny -----Original Message----- From: thomas howard <[email protected]> To: [email protected] Sent: Mon, Dec 21, 2009 9:44 am Subject: [ENTS] Re: Winter Tree Poem ENTS, I have written some poems that are somewhat related to trees in winter. I'm sending you one - this poem is written in the persona of the main character of 2 science fiction novels I'm writing about an artist born in Chartres, France - Chartres is a place I long to visit, a place I've studied a lot over many years : November Light The lightthrough the cathedral windows of Chartres – The light thatstreams down through the clerestory of oak crowns in Our natural cathedral– The stainedglass of Chartres that strains the light of celestial spaces The golden,russet leaves of ancient oaks that strain the light Into cathedralstrands like stained glass All are the samelight – leaves of oaks, windows of Chartres glow with The same innerlight of gray November, the inner soul, light Inwardlydirected, Heaven in arusset oak leaf drifting down from the old growth canopy My earliestchildhood – the November sky of Chartres, later the November Sky of the oakgrove – the light is the same What am I butthe mud of Earth? The seed of lifein November when Earth withers away? Light – gray,inner, of fallen leaves, of stone and wood Cathedral spires– medieval man, ancient trees – Light that isold and new, where heaven and Earth meet in November rain,sleet, leaves falling past saints and heroes – Etched instained glass – Past the Grecianoak columns holding up the forest cathedral Older than man I must embodyall this to be a true poet, true artist But the mud and coldforce me down Yet I become thecelestial song of the withering NovemberEarth. Tom Howard Hotmail: Powerful Free email with security by Microsoft. Get it now. -- Eastern Native Tree Society http://www.nativetreesociety.org Send email to [email protected] Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/entstrees?hl=en To unsubscribe send email to [email protected] -- Eastern Native Tree Society http://www.nativetreesociety.org Send email to [email protected] Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/entstrees?hl=en To unsubscribe send email to [email protected]
