Dark August Comments

This is a beautiful poem. It's about loving someone you hold special in your heart. You wish it were possible to repair their broken yesterdays and tomorrows. The sad part is you can not.

There is a mistake in this. Seriously no one else noticed?

It sounds like an incest in a way and its weirding me out. I wish he hadnt called sun his sister.

Beautiful

Exquisitely beautiful portrayal of nature in the August rains which brings so much deligt in life. Thanks. so that when you emerge, my sister, parting the beads of the rain, with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,

Such an interesting poem about dark days....

The black rain, the white hills, when once I loved only my happiness and you Beautiful concept of black days.. Thanks for the sharing.

The dark days! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

This is beautiful poetry that flows in a majestic way with the sister- the sun. so that when you emerge, my sister, parting the beads of the rain, with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness, .. The sun comes out with flowers and forgiveness. Beautiful stanza. Very nice.

Powerfully emotional poem. It suprised me in the end how much I liked it. Personifying nature is usually such a facile trick to create false parallels between the complexity of human thought and emotion and the incomprehensible otherness of nature. But Walcott uses the device here to get at, to coax out, to try and shine a light on a brooding, difficult side of rejection and loss, anticipation and hope. He turns the personification of nature into a projection of his inner feelings with a delicacy that is heart-wrenching. The personification in fact remains a veil to protect him, his vulnerability, from being stated too unequivocally, too bald-faced. It allows the brooding sadness and hope to be expressed from behind a film of reflective, soothing balm or salve. The images are exquisite, palpable, breathing with the life of the man's expectations and perfectly framed in the cold objectivity of nature. Nature that supplies us home and hearth, health and happiness. Or takes it away without a thought of it affects us personally.

I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones, The black rain, the white hills, when once I loved only my happiness and you. Derek Walcott... great theme. Beautiful poem.

But I am learning slowly to love the dark days, the steaming hills, the air with gossiping mosquitoes, - - -This is pure writing genius at work here. The entire poem is full of perfect line after perfect line