Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
T.S. Eliot The Wasteland
T.S. Eliot, one of those impossible acts to follow, always comes into my head at this time of year with those haunting words from the beginning of his masterpiece The Wasteland. It is unfortunate that this week I am trying to put together a collection of poems for a competition which I know I will not win and Mr Eliot’s ghost walks back and forth taunting me with his genius.
He picks up my mood, or maybe he even created it in the first place.
I am not growing lilacs out of the dead land, my equivalent of Eliot’s lilac is a new thrillingly purple magnolia but it does what T.S.Eliot says. It has forced itself into my head as a symbol for some of the darker poems that I am putting together for this collection.