The muse had sent virtual sustenance: a simple bowl of porridge supporting a few red raspberries. The image nourished my desk-bound soul.
Supportasse Boughs The blossoms have come! The blossoms are here. On parade, white ruffs of spring’s courtiers. 24/3/2015 — Today I present the second of the two poems about spring blossoms. These lines, indeed like those of “March Burst” (posted last week) and many of my ‘sushi’ poems, owes a debt to Ezra Pound’s “InContinue reading “Supportasse Boughs”
It was very suspicious the way that whale rolled over and opened its mouth for tips, then set fireworks to the water gods from its blowhole. — Whales have featured in my poetry before. Like sluice gates and bears, whales prefigure as a childhood fascination. In my first or second year of school, we learntContinue reading “Ulterior motives”
The tides of tomorrow and tomorrow and the next tomorrow sweep into crevices of shored shells. The waves nudge these hollows of yesterday’s habitat into the barrels of tomorrow, tomorrow and the next tomorrow. There the shored shells break with tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrow dashed to granules that lip the tideline. Salted foam seepsContinue reading “The call home”
At the beginning of this month I wrote of the bumper crop of archive poems for November. Here are the last few from the files of 2012 and 2013: A Bequest of Wonder, a poem inspired by a painted banner of Chinese silk, a Chinese artist’s portrait and two detailed Shunga prints. I do. Do you?, in which all the anticsContinue reading “Gazing, as we do”
Christmas is less than a month away. There’s still time to order a book of BeadedQuill’s poetry for someone special. Even non-poetry readers love the short and pithy ‘sushi‘ verses. There is a choice of three titles: The most recent publication, In the Ocean: a year of poetry offers a bumper 104 poems. Over 52Continue reading “Christmas glee”
I love this poem – “Wild Horses Don’t Break” – so very much. To date it is one of the poems I’d be happy to have on my gravestone. Not that I like the idea of being buried in a cramped plot. Fling my ashes to the dunes and the sea! The wild horses ofContinue reading “Wild horses fling their thoughts”
During the first months of posting on my blog in 2012, I opened this short piece with a reminiscence about the red creepers that draped my undergraduate university during autumn. I went on to comment on the dark evenings that enclose this season in the Northern hemisphere — I tweet much more when I’m inContinue reading “It grows ever darker: autumn evenings”