Posted by: Anonymous Me | June 13, 2011

Poem of the Week…

The Icing Hand
by Tony Harrison (1937 – )

That they lasted only till the next high tide

bothered me, not him whose labour was to make

sugar lattices demolished when the bride,

with help from her groom’s hot hand, first cut the cake.


His icing hand, gritty with sandy grains, guides

my pen when I try shaping memories of him

and his eyes scan with mine the rising tides

neither father nor his son could hope to swim.


His eyes stayed dry while I, the kid, would weep

to watch the castle that had taken us all day

to build and deck decay, one wave-surge sweep

our winkle-stuccoed edifice away.


Remembrance like ice cake crumbs in the throat,

remembrance like wind-blown Blackpool brine

overfills the poem’s shallow moat

and first, ebbing, salts, then, flowing, flood this line.



Photo Source

Introspectively,

Me

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: