I hope everyone has some good reading planned for the weekend. I am hoping to finish reading Leviathan Wakes by James. S. A. Corey.
My chosen poem this week is by Edgar Allan Poe and it is Poe asking questions to science. The questions do not get an answer though. It does make me wonder whether Poe liked or disliked science when reading this poem.
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
Edgar Allan Poe
I hope everyone is well and getting to read lots of good books.
My chosen poem this week is by one of my favourite authors Charlotte Bronte.
Life, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall?
Life's sunny hours flit by,
Enjoy them as they fly!
What though Death at times steps in,
And calls our Best away?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O'er hope, a heavy sway?
Yet Hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair!
I will be honest I keep forgetting it is Friday, so it is lucky I have remembered the Friday poetry post. On Sunday the limbo will end because it is all back to work and the break is sadly over but this does mean I will know what day of the week it is.
My chosen poem this week is one by Jackie Kay and I have chosen it as I think it is perfect for New Year.
Remember, the time of year
when the future appears
like a blank sheet of paper
a clean calendar, a new chance.
On thick white snow
You vow fresh footprints
then watch them go
with the wind’s hearty gust.
Fill your glass. Here’s tae us. Promises
made to be broken, made to last.
It is time for another Christmas themed poem and this one is about the animals of the Christmas story. Sadly the author of this lovely poem is unknown.
The Friendly Beasts
Jesus our brother, kind and good,
Was humbly born in a stable rude,
And the friendly beasts around him stood;
Jesus our brother, kind and good.
'I,' said the donkey, shaggy and brown,
'I carried his mother up hill and down,
I carried her safely to Bethlehem town;
I,' said the donkey, shaggy and brown.
'I,' said the cow, all white and red,
'I gave him my manger for his bed,
I gave him my hay to pillow his head;
I,' said the cow, all white and red.
'I,' said the sheep, with the curly horn,
'I gave him my wool for his blanket warm;
He wore my coat on Christmas morn.
'I,' said the sheep with the curly horn.
'I,' said the dove, from the rafters high,
'Cooed him to sleep, my mate and I,
We cooed him to sleep, my mate and I;
I,' said the dove, from the rafters high.
And every beast, by some good spell,
In the stable dark, was glad to tell,
Of the gift he gave Emmanuel,
The gift he gave Emmanuel.
I chose this poem because it is about a cat and poems about cats are always good.
I've built a cuddly snowcat
With whiskers made from straws
And I'm almost sure,
I'm almost sure
I saw him lick his paws.
He's sitting in my garden,
He's smiling at me now,
And I'm almost sure,
I'm almost sure
I heard him say, 'Mee-ow!'
I hope everyone has some good bookish plans for the weekend. As most of you probably know November has been Christina Rossetti month for my Friday Poetry section, so here is my last Rossetti poem for November.
What is Pink?
What is pink? a rose is pink
By the fountain's brink
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro'.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? why, an orange,
Just an orange!
Today is a chill day for me as I have handed in my two assignments so it is time for a little break before I start again on Saturday.
So here is my chosen poem for this week.
A Wintry Sonnet
A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main.-
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.
Here is my chosen Rossetti poem for this week and this week I have chosen one of her sonnets and this one is about Autumn.
So late in Autumn half the world's asleep,
And half the wakeful world looks pinched and pale,
For dampness now, not freshness, rides the gale;
And cold and colourless comes ashore the deep
With tides that bluster or with tides that creep;
Now veiled uncouthness wears an uncouth veil
Of fog, not sultry haze; and blight and bale
Have done their worst, and leaves rot on the heap.
So late in Autumn one forgets the Spring,
Forgets the Summer with its opulence,
The callow birds that long have found a wing,
The swallows that more lately gat them hence:
Will anything like Spring, will anything
Like Summer, rouse one day the slumbering sense?
This month I have decided to do something different. This month I am dedicating to my favourite poet Christina Rossetti. This means that each Friday of November I will post a poem by Rossetti.
Apologies if you do not like Rossetti but she is my absolute favourite.
A pin has a head, but has no hair;
A clock has a face, but no mouth there;
Needles have eyes, but they cannot see;
A fly has a trunk without lock or key;
A timepiece may lose, but cannot win;
A corn-field dimples without a chin;
A hill has no leg, but has a foot;
A wine-glass a stem, but not a root;
A watch has hands, but no thumb or finger;
A boot has a tongue, but is no singer;
Rivers run, though they have no feet;
A saw has teeth, but it does not eat;
Ash-trees have keys, yet never a lock;
And baby crows, without being a cock.