“There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt … Continue reading Poets On Sunday | Shel Silverstein
“I have nothing to hide except for the fact I’m broken inside.” ― Ejieh B. SUBJECT: Sycamore Tree LOCATION: The Coves, London, Ontario Perched precariously at the edge, branches outstretched to the sky, defying the inevitable. I love this tree. It is completely hollow inside, yet, it lives on. There is a symbolism here that defines a certain aspect of life, or at any rate … Continue reading The Hollow Tree
In The Seven Woods I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile Tara uprooted, and new commonness Upon the throne and crying about the streets And hanging its paper flowers from post to … Continue reading Wild Flowers Of August
When the first light of sun — Bless you. When the long day is done — Bless you. In your smiles and your tears — Bless you. Through each day of your years — Bless you. from Irish Blessings Continue reading Blessing for Sunday
I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I know not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I know not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterwards, in an … Continue reading The Arrow and the Song | Longfellow
To-Day So here hath been dawning Another blue day; Think will thou let it Slip useless away? Out of Eternity This new day is born. Into Eternity At night will return. Behold it aforetime No eye never did So soon it forever From all eyes is hid. Here hath been dawning Another blue day; Think, will thou let it Slip useless away? by Thomas Carlyle … Continue reading Poets On Sunday: Thomas Carlyle
Last night on our walk, there was a gentle rain. It fell so delicately, it was like a cleansing mist. It was dusk, and the last vestiges of light defined the gentle blush of the new magnolia blossoms in front of the Catholic Church around the corner. Beginnings – Beltane Beltane was one of four Gaelic seasonal festivals: Samhain (~1 November), Imbolc (~1 February), Beltane … Continue reading May Day and Magnolias
The Enkindled Spring by D. H. Lawrence This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes. I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze Of growing, and … Continue reading Poets on Sunday: D.H. Lawrence
Todays Daily Prompt was too good to ignore. Instantly, I POOF… was transported to the other day, when I wrote that poem. This song takes me back to those years at the lake. When I hear that song, from one of Tim’s favourite singers, I am always moved. Mentally I am back, by a campfire, comfortably situated, with cozy pillows, in lawn chairs. Crackling fire … Continue reading Back to the Mystic
A BLESSING FOR SUNDAY The following was part of a speech given by Tolkien in Holland, “organized by a Rottendam bookseller“, the spring of 1958; Tolkien made a lively speech in English interspersed with Dutch and Elvish. It was in part a parody of Bilbo’s party speech at the beginning of The Lord of the Rings, and it concluded with Tolkien recalling ‘that it is … Continue reading the ‘Hobbit Dinner’ speech
Tolkien was heavily influenced by the Viking Sagas, and Old Norse, and both these excerpts from his poems speak to that heritage within the words. [ Photo’s: August 9th, 2009, Grey County ] GOBLIN FEET I am off down the road Where the fairy lanterns glowed And the little pretty flittermice are flying: A slender band of grey It runs creepily away And the hedges … Continue reading Poets on Sunday: TOLKIEN
from ‘Bards of Passion and of Mirth, written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher’s Tragi-Comedy ‘The Fair Maid of the Inn’ ‘ by John Keats Thus ye live on high, and then On the earth ye live again; And the souls ye left behind you Teach us, here, the way to find you, Where your other souls are joying, Never slumber’d, never cloying. … Continue reading Poets on Sunday: Keats
“Does It Pay” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox If one poor burdened toiler o’er life’s road, Who meets us by the way, Goes on less conscious of his galling load, Then life indeed, does pay. If we can show one troubled heart the gain, That lies alway in loss, Why, then, we too, are paid for all the pain Of bearing life’s hard cross. If some … Continue reading A Blessing for Sunday
by PaulaB 