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Plash…keesh… plash…keesh
onto the pebbly beach,but as if they regret their own angry generosity,pull back a sieved undertow of finer pebblesmixed with rogh toe-grating sand;their generosity the swathe of larger pebbleswhich gleam like jewels, before the salt-waterdries them into centuries of scratched, scoured surface,dull as familiarity.That swathe of jewels – magic to a child;but now I’m older,…
and mind might ask,
because the world is justso wonderful, that they, stunnedand amazed, cannot decidewhich colour to praise first?(Mix all the colours of the paints,and the result is gray.)or is it because they feel themselvesso dull in comparisonwith the miracle which is creation,the miracle they (miracles themselves) , faithful, serve?(Mix all the colours of the spectrum,and the result…
When youth was life and life was youth
I thought love came and went;its coming, overwhelming; and its going,death of spirit; then, as ifthe wild white swans had flown awayand left the waters of the heart’s lake cold.But now I know it’s not like that:love that, guarded, never flies from here in heartto where it will, may grow dark, cold and miserly;ungiven every…
The poet, bent over the paper, ink-brush in hand,
did not see the first stork of the Springin the limitless blue sky,a new poem in its beak
The poet –
an ordinary human being like you or mewho keeps a diaryof the mind and heartand then publishes itwith luckand maybe sells a few –is a bit like one of those ‘exotic’ creaturesfilmed on the ocean floor,gracefully waving a hostess welcomeas if used to welcoming photographersinto its lovely home in this week’s special issueand such a…
Poetry is about freedom.
The freedom of spirit.You’re free to post your poems here.People are free to comment on them.Or not.You’re free to air your viewson poetry rather than people, pleaseon the Forum(named after a marketplacesometimes used asa place of public entertainmentand human slaughter)and they’re freeto disagreesimply, free –unless, of courseyou wanted something else as well?