Fall, Leaves, Fall (by Emily Bronte) Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day.
Traveling at Home (by Wendell Berry) Even in a country you know by heart it’s hard to go the same way twice. The life of the going changes. The chances change and make a new way. Any tree or stone or bird can be the bud of a new direction. The natural correction is to …
Phew, that was some weekend… there are certain moments in your life that make you shift your understanding, your direction, your point of view. And I’m not talking about the really ‘big’ ones, your marriage, the birth of your child… but the quiet moment that sneak up on you when you don’t expect it, the …
The Pursuit of Poetry (by Jennifer Compton) It’s later afternoon. It’s always later afternoon. Pick up all you want to carry. Walk out the door. Walk towards the setting sun. It’s very importan to walk towards the setting sun. Of course it means turning away from all the people you are leaving with cold …
Paris (by Charles Bukowski) never even in calmer times have I ever dreamed of bicycling through that city wearing a beret and Camus always pisse d me off.
… back to normal posting… last week was bonkers… This world (by Mary Oliver) I would like to write a poem about the world that has in it nothing fancy. But it seems impossible. Whatever the subject, the morning sun glimmers it. The tulip feels the heat and flaps its petals open and becomes a …
Beneath The Sweater And The Skin (by Jeannette Encinias) How many years of beauty do I have left? she asks me. How many more do you want? Here. Here is 34. Here is 50. When you are 80 years old and your beauty rises in ways your cells cannot even imagine now and your wild …
I stumbled upon this poem yesterday whilst flicking through my phone on the way to Ed Sheeran’s concert; I came across various articles on ‘The New Yorker’ about ‘fathers’ – it was father’s day after all – and I enjoyed one in particular, written by Daniel Mendelssohn, all about his late father and the cruise …
… from a delightful birthday present… The Knitter (by Jackie Kay) I knit to keep death away For hame will dae me. On a day like this the fine mist Is a dropped stitch across the sky. I knit to hold a good yarn For stories bide with me On a night like this, by …
Migraine Poem (by alexandre arnau) a torn bit of light beating ceaseless hidden codes behind my frail bleeding eyes tugging on wires of thin grey fire i raise my hands to shield my mind there is no refuge in my hands the drone and clang and shriek of reality unleash white furies from barren temples …
while you're ahead... 