Category: poetry

Smiling Daffodils

Do Daffodils smile? Poets say they do. Walking on the sidewalk yesterday I came across these. I stopped and watched them rocking to and fro in the wind. I detected an expression of glee in their yellow faces, and then I saw it – they were smiling.

Eternity

Poets often speak of eternity within us. I find this hard to grasp. Perhaps I’m too literal and that’s fatal when it comes to poetry. But early this morning I was walking my little dog and experienced a sudden and heightened awareness of the new day. I found myself pondering on this new day’s connection to that long chain of days that have eternally flowed like waves to the shoreline, and at that moment, felt a fleeting sense of the eternal.

Stone Walls

I saw this wall at “The Friars” a Carmelite Priory. I loved the light and the scattered leaves, but the wall seemed a little intimidating. I was reminded of a section of Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall.”

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.

Robert Frost

Fire and Ice

I’ve decided, during this time of uncertainty, to learn off by heart a short poem or fragment of a poem, every second day. Here’s today’s from Robert Frost’s  “Fire and Ice.”

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favour fire.

I must say I too prefer fire, but thinking about it – give me both.

Daffodils

Yesterday, in the soft rain, I walked over to where we park our car. The sky and everything else seemed so grey – all a bit depressing. Then I saw them, pressed up against the trunk of a tree, a glorious clump of Daffodils. As I looked at them I was ushered into my day with a new sense of joy and vigour, and my mind turned to one of my favourite poets:

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;

 

To Be Amazed

Passed this lichen on my walk yesterday.

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I’ve always been a great admirer of the poetry and writings of Mary Oliver. The other day I was going through some notes of mine and came across these words of hers – deeply touching. Sadly, she died in January 2019.

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.”

She lived these words.

Champing The Grasses

This morning I stopped alongside a fence and listened to a horse grazing in the field. It was a beautiful sound, breathy and hollow with an echoing kind of chomp, punctuated now and then by the slight sound of the grinding of teeth. It was a lovely moment and I was transported back to some of the words of a favourite poem of mine, “The Listeners” by Walter de La Mare:

Is there anybody there? said the Traveller,   
   Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses   
   Of the forest’s ferny floor:
I loved, and still love, the phrase – “The forest’s ferny floor” I can go on saying it forever – “The forest’s ferny floor” – and I can hear his horse in the silence champing away at the grasses.