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Posts tagged “poetry

a confusion of Spring



These compositions come from a walk taken April 24. The temperature hit 17 Celsius that day. It then dropped the next day to half that, accompanied by a mixed precipitation of drizzle, freezing drizzle & flurries. Yesterday was showers & flurries – today mostly blue skies with a high of 7 wrapped in a chill breeze.

Snow heaps on lawns turn grey-brown, reluctantly shrinking into small mumbling mounds of frosty defiance.



Dormant grass eyes sky

seeking sun’s rays, warm showers-

contrarian clouds.



Atlantean Walls


Above its domes the gulfs accumulate.
Far up, the sea-gales blare their bitter screed:
But here the buried waters take no heed—
Deaf, and with welded lips pressed down by weight
Of the upper ocean. Dim, interminate,
In cities over-webbed with somber weed,
Where galleons crumble and the krakens breed,
The slow tide coils through sunken court and gate.

From out the ocean’s phosphor-starry dome,
A ghostly light is dubitably shed
On altars of a goddess garlanded
With blossoms of some weird and hueless vine;
And, wingéd, fleet, through skies beneath the foam,
Like silent birds the sea-things dart and shine.

Atlantis (1912) – Clark Ashton Smith


This is what the cold looks like

This is what the cold looks like –

Cold air moving .


This is what the cold looks like –

Catching the cold.






This is what the cold looks like –

Entering, the cold stomps tingling feet.



This is what the cold looks like

When the snow blanket is thin,

As the morning windchill

Scratches a minus 27 Celsius

on your cheeks and chin –

Oh, such lovely colours.

So Red



So red it grows –

not black or green – leaves/stem

race Time’s quick grasp.


Garden Gloves in Monochrome


COME into the garden, Maud,

For the black bat, night, has flown,

Come into the garden, Maud,

I am here at the gate alone;

And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,

And the musk of the rose is blown.

Come into the Garden, Maud

Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron (1809–92)