A poem

This is the first poem I read and thought "this is my life".  I was in my early twenties. After that I thought poetry was pretty cool and set about writing some poems for myself. This one poem managed to alter my entires life's experience of poetry up to that point. Nightmares of learning lines by rote and being told what Yeat's meant when he wrote .... disappeared into the ether. It also helped that a woman wrote it. But more than that I understood it,  without help assitance or dictate. I saw myself, my own life, my own experiences and my world has never been the same since.

Casselden Road, nw 10

for Marya

The wind would fan the life-green fires that smouldered
under the lamps, and from the glistening road
draw out deep shades of rain, and we would hear
the beat of rain and darkened panes, the sound
of night and no one stirring but ourselves,
leaning still from the window. No one else
will remember this. No one else will remember.

Shadows of leaves like riders hurried by
upon the wall within. The street would fill
with phantasy, the night become
a river or an ocean where the tree
and silent lamp were sailing; the wind would fail
and sway towards the light. And no one else
will remember this. No one else will remember.

—

Denise Levertov (1923-1977)