Bluebird Poem (by Charles Bukowski) there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you. there’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette …
Children (by Khalil Gibran) And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, ‘Speak to us of Children.’ And he said: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you, yet …
Let’s get this week started… Morning (by Billy Collins) Why do we bother with the rest of the day, the swale of the afternoon, the sudden dip into evening, then night with his notorious perfumes, his many-pointed stars? This is the best— throwing off the light covers, feet on the cold floor, and buzzing around …
And the days are not full enough (by Ezra Pound) And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass
One of my favourite: Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening (by Robert Frost) Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a …
Ed e’ subito sera (by Salvatore Quasimodo) Everyone stands alone at the heart of the world pierced by a ray of sunlight, and suddenly it is evening. My parents have moved out of Italy. Yesterday. They now live in the same town, not very far at all. I was so wrapped up in …
Monday vibes. First frost on the grass, the boys have just left for school, the dog is barking at the bin men outside. I’m wearing hand knitted socks on my feet for the first time this autumn and a cozy shawl around my neck, neither Lilli nor I fancy going for a walk just yet. …
Mannahatta (by Walt Whitman) I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name. Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient, I see that the word of my city is that word from of old, Because I see that …
Phenomenal Woman ((by Maya Angelou) Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The …
This is why I love Instagram and the whole ‘sharing’ that goes on in the social world… yes, I’m aware not all is good, but when it is… it’s brilliant. I saw this book on Dana’s feed and what a great discover it was. Amazing poetry and I don’t think I would have come across …
while you're ahead... 