this is newness

If looking for a good Christmas poem was like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack, finding a good New Year poem is like finding the proverbial camel to go through the eye of that other famous proverbial needle.

i still like this one by Sylvia Plath.

But that was last year's newness, and therefore not new at all; and because it is a new year, and because it's time to ring out the old and ring in the new, here's a new poem for 2007.


Days

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.


(Philip Larkin)


PS:
Don't ask me why, for two years running, i've posted New Year poems by arguably the most miserable, depressive writers in the English language. Let's try not to make too much of it. :)
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