By R. S. Thomas

SisyphusAnd Prytherch – was he a real man,

Rolling his pain day after day

Up life’s hill? Was he a survival

Of a lost past, wearing the times’

Shabbier cast-off, refusing to change

His lean horse for the quick tractor?

Or was a wish to have him so

Responsible for his frayed shape?

Could I have said he was the scholar

Of the fields’ pages he turned more slowly

Season by season, or nature’s fool,

Born to blur with his moist eye

The clear passages of a book

You came to finger with deft touch?

In this poignant sonnet, Thomas analogizes Prytherch to Sisyphus, from the Greek “Myth of Sisyphus.” (Click the link for details).

Remember to submit your own choice of R. S. Thomas’s poem(s) for discussion in what will be a riveting session on September 24. See the SCHEDULE PAGE for submissions to-date.


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