Friday Poetry: D. H. Lawrence

Happy Friday!

I have had a super busy day with my Etsy business and I am looking forward to the weekend.

My chosen poem this week is by David Herbert Lawrence (1885-1930) who was an English writer and poet.

Escape

When we get out of the glass bottles of our own ego,
and when we escape like squirrels from turning in the
cages of our personality
and get into the forest again,
we shall shiver with cold and fright
but things will happen to us
so that we don't know ourselves.

Cool, unlying life will rush in,
and passion will make our bodies taut with power,
we shall stamp our feet with new power
and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like burnt
paper.

D. H. Lawrence

Happy Reading

Etsy

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: D. H. Lawrence

Happy Friday!

I still have covid but I am very slowly starting to get a bit of energy back. The reason I have chosen this poem for this week is because I am missing the sea. Whilst on holiday it was so nice to be right next to the sea everyday.

Seaweed

Seaweed sways and sways and swirls
as if swaying were its form of stillness;
and it flushes against fierce rock
it slips over it as shadows do, without hurting itself. 

D. H. Lawrence

Happy Reading

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you

Friday Poetry: D. H. Lawrence

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far and I hope that everyone has some good weekend plans ahead.

My chosen poem this week is by David Herbert Lawrence (1885-1930) who was an English writer and poet.

Autumn Rain

The plane leaves
fall black and wet
on the lawn;

the cloud sheaves
in heaven's fields set
droop and are drawn

in falling seeds of rain;
the seed of heaven
on my face

falling - I hear again
like echoes even
that softly pace

heaven's muffled floor,
the winds that tread
out all the grain

of tears, the store
harvested
in the sheaves of pain

caught up aloft:
the sheaves of dead
men that are slain

now winnowed soft
on the floor of heaven;
manna invisible

of all the pain
here to us given;
finely divisible
falling as rain. 

D. H. Lawrence

Happy Reading

If you enjoy reading my blog and would like to make a donation I would be very grateful. Thank you