The ermine softness of the leaves
Brushing against his arm.
The air, warm and moist
Like an inhaler full of balm.
Menace seems to lurk
In every shadow of apparent calm.
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
Monday, 28 March 2011
Is/Not - Margaret Atwood
Love is not a profession
genteel or otherwise
genteel or otherwise
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Home From Abroad - Laurie Lee
Far-fetched with tales of other worlds and ways,
My skin well-oiled with wines of the Levant,
I set my face into a filial smile
To greet the pale, domestic kiss of Kent.
My skin well-oiled with wines of the Levant,
I set my face into a filial smile
To greet the pale, domestic kiss of Kent.
Saturday, 26 March 2011
The Early Morning - Hilaire Belloc
The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other:
Friday, 25 March 2011
In My Dreams - Stevie Smith
In my dreams I am always saying goodbye and riding away,
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Sheep in Fog - Sylvia Plath
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
If - Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
Martha - Walter de la Mare
"Once...Once upon a time..."
Over and over again,
Martha would tell us her stories,
In the hazel glen.
Over and over again,
Martha would tell us her stories,
In the hazel glen.
Monday, 21 March 2011
As Kingfishers Catch Fire - Gerard Manley Hopkins
As king fishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
Sunday, 20 March 2011
The Telephone - Michel Quoist
I have just hung up;
why did he telephone?
I don’t know…
O! I get it…
I talked a lot and listened little.
why did he telephone?
I don’t know…
O! I get it…
I talked a lot and listened little.
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Morning at the window - T.S. Eliot
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
My Dream - Ogden Nash
This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Sonnet 113 - William Shakespeare
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,
Love and the Gentle Heart - Dante Alighieri
Love is but one thing with the gentle heart,
As in the saying of the sage we find.
Thus one from other cannot be apart,
More than the reason from the reasoning mind.
As in the saying of the sage we find.
Thus one from other cannot be apart,
More than the reason from the reasoning mind.
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Five-Per-Cent - Robert William Service
Because I have ten thousand pounds I sit upon my stern,
And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn.
For in some procreative way that isn't very clear,
Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year.
So as I have a healthy hate of economic strife,
I mean to stand aloof from it the balance of my life.
And yet with sympathy I see the grimy son of toil,
And heartly congratulate the tiller of the soil.
I like the miner in the mine, the sailor on the sea,
Because up to five hundred pounds they sail and mine for me.
For me their toil is taxed unto that annual extent,
According to the holy shibboleth of Five-per-Cent.
And leave my living tranquilly for other folks to earn.
For in some procreative way that isn't very clear,
Ten thousand pounds will breed, they say, five hundred every year.
So as I have a healthy hate of economic strife,
I mean to stand aloof from it the balance of my life.
And yet with sympathy I see the grimy son of toil,
And heartly congratulate the tiller of the soil.
I like the miner in the mine, the sailor on the sea,
Because up to five hundred pounds they sail and mine for me.
For me their toil is taxed unto that annual extent,
According to the holy shibboleth of Five-per-Cent.
Monday, 14 March 2011
The Lent Lily - Alfred Edward Housman
'Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found.
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The primroses are found.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
A Bird Came Down - Emily Dickinson
A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
Saturday, 12 March 2011
A Prayer in Spring - Robert Lee Frost
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Friday, 11 March 2011
Soil - Roger McGough
we've ignored eachother for a long time
and I'm strictly an indoor man
anytime to call would be the wrong time
I'll avoid you as long as I can
and I'm strictly an indoor man
anytime to call would be the wrong time
I'll avoid you as long as I can
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night - Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Havisham - Carol Ann Duffy
Beloved sweetheart bastard. Not a day since then
I haven’t wished him dead. Prayed for it
so hard I’ve dark green pebbles for eyes,
ropes on the back of my hands I could strangle with.
I haven’t wished him dead. Prayed for it
so hard I’ve dark green pebbles for eyes,
ropes on the back of my hands I could strangle with.
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
i carry your heart with me - Edward Estlin Cummings (ee cummings)
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
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