Sunday, October 30, 2011

A favourite poem.

Ted Hughes 'The Thought Fox', a poem that has always awed me by its intriguing, mysterious atmosphere, where, every second, I wait with bated breath, to see his 'page printed'.
The moment of artistic composition cannot not be captured more powerfully, I think.
I read this poem again after a long time and was drawn again into its spell.
With the poet, I look into the dark forest and see the two eyes and watch, fascinated, as inspiration strikes, and out of the night,  a poem is born!
Here is the poem,

The Thought-Fox

I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business

Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.
Ted Hughes

 Hope reading this unclogs the mind and sets it free on the path of creativity. :)   

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