Not from the sunshine,
late in September,
not from the rains of October
and though moonlight
might brighten November
or the cold of December
that covers the lake
with its first paper-thin ice
the grass still stands
withered, unyielding
till it’s covered with snow;
and not until thawing in March
it lay flattened in awe
for the new grass of spring,
like the old man in silence
admiring the giggling of youth.
Edvard Munch
Today Sarah hosts at dVerse and she has given us a few titles to chose from to write our own poems.
December 1, 2020
Björn Rudbergs writings 
This is absolutely stellar writing, Bjorn! 😀 I love the idea of “the new grass of spring, like the old man in silence admiring the giggling of youth.” ❤️
Three of us have chosen this title already and I expect there will be more, and all different – it’s a great title to play with. I love what you have taken from the title and how you’ve developed it into a wonderful winter scene, Björn. I imagined the lake covered ‘with its first paper-thin ice’ and the grass ‘withered, unyielding / till it’s covered with snow’.
It’s amazing how different the poems all were with the same title.
That is a stunning piece, Bjorn. I love the story of the grass through winter, and that ending is brilliant. This is up there in my favourites list.
I like the way you’ve taken us through the seasons… I yearn for ‘the new grass of spring’.
This is so beautiful and engrossing; the dynamic of the seasons, their transitions and meaning, you write it stunningly.
I agree with Sarah, Bjorn. Your poem is stunning. One helluva poem, and such a fine focus on humble grass, which is so often tread upon and overlooked.
p.s. I love the image you chose to do with it. Nice to see Munch not screaming 😉
Wow, that image of the grass which ‘lay flattened in awe
for the new grass of spring’ – you turned the title into a wonderful extended metaphor, and picked the perfect image to match!
I like your description of the grass of spring. So true, and something to be learned from it, no doubt.
This is beautiful Björn. You really capture a vivid image of winter and early spring, and put the title to perfect use. 🙂
We’re not far, here, from that 1st paper-thin ice, Bjorn. This piece is killer-diller. It IS amazing how different the responses to a single prompt, eh? Well done!
the unyielding cold makes the grass old, waiting for the youth of spring …
What a stunning piece, Bjorn. I love your reflections on seasons and the last two lines seem to reference life’s full circle.
A beautiful poem .. stunning how the title flowed into the body of your poem. Sighs from me.
the whole gamut of the year hear with those remarkable end lines – the old year reminds me of Eliot’s ‘Gerontion
“Here I am, an old man in a dry month,
Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.”
As has been remarked, this has a wonderful circular form, a journey through the year. (K)
I really enjoyed this Bjorn. There was a tenderness to the piece that caught me. Well written.
Wonderful. I can see it, flattened, waiting for the sun to warm it so it can straighten up. It is always lovely to read you. I have been quiet, under the weight of things. It is nice to read and write poetry again.
Absolutely stunning! I purposefully did not read any poems until I had done mine; yet I chose the same line, like several others.
Yes. There’s a resilience here that bows only to the coming of new life.
Perfect. Just perfect. And so different from your usual “voice”. I really like it.
wonderful!