Friday Poetry: Don Marquis

Happy Friday!

I chose this poem because we have a Tom Cat who terrorises our poor cats and does anything he possibly can to get into our house. Thankfully we have a very clever cat flap that will only let our cats in.

The Tom-Cat

At midnight in the alley

A tom-cat comes to wail,

And he chants the hate of a million years

As he swings his snaky tail.

Malevolent, bony, brindled,

Tiger and devil and bard,

His eyes are coals from the middle of Hell

And his heart is black and hard.

He twists and crouches and capers

And bares his curved sharp claws,

And he sings to the stars of the jungle nights

Ere cities were, or laws.

Beast from a world primeval,

He and his leaping clan,

When the blotched red moon leers over the roofs

Give voice to their scorn of man.

He will lie on a rug tomorrow

And lick his silky fur,

And veil the brute in his yellow eyes

And play he’s tame and purr.

But at midnight in the alley

He will crouch again and wail,

And beat the time for his demon’s song

With the swing of his demon’s tail.

Don Marquis

I couldn’t get a picture of the annoying Tom Cat so I took a picture of my cat Pan instead.

Friday Poetry: Robert Louis Stevenson

Happy Friday Everyone!

I hope everyone is well. I know the world is rather scary at the moment with the Coronavirus so I hope everyone remains safe and well.

My chosen poem is all about the lengthening evenings, I must admit I am looking forward to a bit more sun.

Bed in Summer

In winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow candle-light.

In summer, quite the other way,

I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see

The birds still hoping on the tree,

Or hear the grown-up people’s feet

Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,

When all the sky is clear and blue,

And I should like so much to play,

To have to go to bed by day?

Robert Louis Stevenson

Friday Poetry: Ford Madox Ford

Hello!

Happy Friday Everyone!

Here is my chosen poem. This week’s poem is by Ford Madox Ford, although I’ve never got on very well with the novels by Ford, I do rather like his poetry.

In Tenebris

All within is warm,

Here without it’s very cold,

Now the year is grown so old

And the dead leaves swarm.

In your heart is light,

Here without it’s very dark,

When shall I hear the lark?

When see aright?

Oh, for a moment’s space!

Draw the clinging curtains wide

Whilst I wait and yearn outside

Let the light fall on my face.

Ford Madox Ford

Happy Reading!

Friday Poetry: Christina Rossetti

Happy Friday!

I’ve gone for another of my favourites today.

Months

January cold and desolate;

February all dripping wet;

March wind ranges;

April changes;

Birds sing in tune

To flowers of May,

And sunny June

Brings longest day;

In scorched July

The storm-clouds fly

Lightning torn;

August bears corn,

September fruit;

In rough October

Earth must disrobe her;

Stars fall and shoot

In keen November;

And night is long

And cold is strong

In bleak December.

Christina Rossetti

Happy reading!

Friday Poetry: Catullus

Happy Friday!

I have been reading the complete poems by Catullus for my Masters recently and must admit I have been really enjoying them so I have chosen one of my favourites to share with you today.

XLV

Septimius, his belovèd Acme

In his lap, said ‘Acme darling,

If I’m not desperately in love

And set to go on loving you

Forever in utter desperation,

Then lone in Libya or scorched India

I’ll face a lion with green eyes.’

At this Love sneezed, first on the right,

Then on the left, approvingly.

But Acme, lightly tilting back

Her head and kissing her sweet boy’s

Drunken eyes with that rosy mouth,

Said ‘Septimillus, so, my life,

May we always serve this one master

Surely as burns in my soft marrow

A bigger far and fiercer fire.’

At this Love sneezed, first on right,

Then on the left, approvingly,

Now, setting out from this good omen,

With mutual minds they’re loved and love.

Poor Septimius prefers his Acme

To all the Syrias and Britains.

Faithful Acme in her Septimius

Finds all desires and delights.

Who has seen any happier people?

Who a Venus more starry-eyed?

Catullus (translated by Guy Lee)

Happy Reading!

Friday Poetry: A. E. Housman

I’m back!

Hello everyone!

I’m so sorry I have been away for so long. Studying and assignment writing as well as working has taken its toll and sadly my poor blog has suffered. However, I am back now but I will admit that the blogging might be a bit sporadic. I am looking forward to reading everyone’s blogs again and being a part of the blogging community.

Yonder See the Morning Blink

Yonder see the morning blink:

The sun is up, and up must I,

To wash and dress and eat and drink

And look at things and talk and think

And work, and God knows why.

Oh often have I washed and dressed

And what’s to show for all my pain?

Let me lie abed and rest:

Ten thousand times I’ve done my best

And all’s to do again.

A. E. Housman

Happy Reading.

Friday Poetry: John Clare

I have been reading some of my new poetry books and I rather enjoyed this poem so thought I would share it with you all.

This poem is by John Clare (1793-1864) who was an English poet who celebrated the English countryside in his poetry.

To the Fox Fern

Haunter of woods, lone wilds and solitudes

Where none but feet of birds and things as wild

Doth print a foot track near, where summer’s light

Buried in boughs forgets its glare and round thy crimped leaves

Feints in a quiet dimness fit for musings

And melancholy moods, with here and there

A golden thread of sunshine stealing through

The evening shadowy leaves that seem to creep

Like leisure in the shade.

John Clare

Friday Poetry: William Blake

It is time for the first poem of 2020!

I have really enjoyed my poetry experiment so far and so I have decided to keep going with it through 2020. I will admit I am starting to enjoy poetry! However, it is still a limited selection of poems that I am enjoying. Let’s hope that 2020 will introduce me to more poems that I love.

I have gone for a poem by William Blake. The poem is about a new born and as we are in a new born year I thought it fitted well.

Infant Joy

‘I have no name:

‘I am but two days old.’

What shall I call thee?

‘I am happy am,

‘Joy is my name.’

Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!

Sweet joy but two days old,

Sweet joy I call thee:

Thou dost smile,

I sing the while,

Sweet joy befall thee!

William Blake

Happy Friday!

Friday Poetry: Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Happy Twixmas!

Yes, it is that time between Christmas and New Year where we have no clue what day of the week it is and living off leftovers and chocolate. I love it!

However, I have tried to be good and remembered it is Friday so I better do a poem. I have gone for a poem based on New Year.

The Year

What can be said in New Year rhymes,

That’s not been said a thousand times?

The new years come, the old years go,

We know we dream, we dream we know.

We rise up laughing with the light,

We lie down weeping with the night.

We hug the world until it stings,

We curse it then and sigh for wings.

We live, we love, we woo, we wed,

We wrestle our prides, we sheet our dead.

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,

And that’s the burden of a year.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Friday Poetry: Clare Bevan

Hello!

This week’s chosen poem is by Clare Bevan and I chose it because I have had a lot of students excited about acting in their school nativity plays.

Just Doing My Job

I’m one of Herod’s Henchmen.

We don’t have much to say,

We just charge through the audience

In a Henchman sort of way.

We all wear woolly helmets

To hide our hair and ears,

And wellingtons sprayed silver

To match our tinfoil spears.

Our swords are made of cardboard

So blood will not be spilled

If we trip and stab a parent

When the hall’s completely filled.

We don’t look VERY scary,

We’re almost small and shy,

And some of us wear glasses,

But we give the thing a try.

We whisper Henchman noises

While Herod hunts for strangers,

And then we all charge out again

Like nervous Power Rangers.

Yet when the play is over

And Miss is out of breath

We’ll charge like Henchmen through the hall

And scare our mums to death.

Clare Bevan

Happy Reading