mandering my gerries –
just need a standard for my bog!
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The day you went,
as if it didn’t know.The day you went,the blackbird sangas if no-one had asked it to be silent.The day you wentthe bees foragedas if it were a day like any other.
Do only poets know
comes winging from eternity,to be tasted, savoured on the tongueand then returnedwith love, humility and gratitudeand that huge thing, the human heart;and just a modest hopethat others will accept this thought, this offering?Do only poets know?I hope not.Otherwise, what’s the point?
If you saw the film ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’
by his ‘Funeral Blues’;If you were a college poetry studentthe day after 9/11you might have had your poet in residenceread his ‘September 1,1939’and had your breath taken awayby its accidental appropriatenessand the last line, which he wanted to amend,‘We must love each other, or die’Two poems he himself didn’t think quite good enough..this is posthumous…
I’ve just been looking at the photo
a photo for a long time, as ifhoping that in some wayit would add to my humanity,of Doris Lessing, Nobel prize-winnerat the age of 88;looking like a benevolentlady ape looking at you and me andconsidering the nature of the human speciesshe’s hoping to evolve intowhich may or may not include you and me as we…
How can a mother ever quite forget,
that state which babies share with saints:to be free from all desires of mind?And so the mother must take onthat strange but natural responsibilityto desire, for the baby in her charge; but then,one day, to learn to stop to ‘mother’for the child’s own growing sake..And how much more, instinct and reasonmust have played in Her;…
Brothers – sisters – do our years last?
those which were, no longer are;those to come are not yet here.The former days are past;the future days are yet to come…but only to pass away in their turn..Today exists.. but only in this momentin which we speak, this moment now…already, its first hours have passed;the hours that remain do not yet exist;they will come,…