by Carol Dixon
The first part of November in the UK seems to be all about ‘Rememberings’. On 1 November we remember the Saints, then we ‘remember, remember the 5th of November’, and the following week we commemorate Remembrance Day on 11 November and I thought it would be interesting to explore these dates in poetry and hymns/songs beginning with my poem ‘Remembering’, sparked by something my mother said to us when we were children.
Remembering
When I was young
Watching relentless rain
Pouring down outside
The window pane
Wondering when it would end
My brother and I would then
Say ‘Let’s play raindrop races’.
Our faces glued to the glass
We’d follow our chosen drops
As they slid down the window
In slithering stops
To see who had won
And who had lost.
Then, ‘I’m bored’ we’d cry.
Said mother (with a sigh)
‘November is for writing poems’
And we’d try – some
Were better than others.
My brother’s still a poet.
As am I.
A more classical approach to November is encapsulated in John Clare’s poem:
November by John Clare
Sybil of months, and worshipper of winds,
I love thee, rude and boisterous as thou art;
And scraps of joy my wandering ever finds
Mid thy uproarious madness—when the start
Of sudden tempests stirs the forest leaves
Into hoarse fury, till the shower set free
Stills the huge swells. Then ebb the mighty heaves,
That sway the forest like a troubled sea.
I love thy wizard noise, and rave in turn
Half-vacant thoughts and rhymes of careless form;
Then hide me from the shower, a short sojourn,
Neath ivied oak; and mutter to the storm,
Wishing its melody belonged to me,
That I might breathe a living song to thee.