Tonight's Poet Corner: New Year's Revolution
New Year's Revolution
by Belinda Roddie
Past the empty bottles of gin and
vodka and Russian and Spanish and French
neglect, there's a swell of energy from the
dawn of a new grandfather clock with
overgrown second hand whiskers. There's a
need for running and cheering and clapping and
hoping and praying and thinking that maybe, just
maybe, a miracle will occur that didn't
happen the year before.
While in other parts of the world, people
gnash their teeth, others slosh their innards with
peach-spiced influenza, while you, on your handheld
recorder of galaxies, start to contemplate
conquering a post office for James Connolly,
with his stone hands raised high,
as Easter meant revolution
over resurrection -
so a new year will mean to you.
by Belinda Roddie
Past the empty bottles of gin and
vodka and Russian and Spanish and French
neglect, there's a swell of energy from the
dawn of a new grandfather clock with
overgrown second hand whiskers. There's a
need for running and cheering and clapping and
hoping and praying and thinking that maybe, just
maybe, a miracle will occur that didn't
happen the year before.
While in other parts of the world, people
gnash their teeth, others slosh their innards with
peach-spiced influenza, while you, on your handheld
recorder of galaxies, start to contemplate
conquering a post office for James Connolly,
with his stone hands raised high,
as Easter meant revolution
over resurrection -
so a new year will mean to you.
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