Friday Poetry: Philip Larkin

Hello!

Happy Friday! Apologies for being absent for so long but I decided to have a little break from the blog for a little while.

My chosen poem this week is by the poet Philip Larkin.

The Trees

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread, 
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too. 
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May. 
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh. afresh, afresh.

Philip Larkin

Happy Reading

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Friday Poetry

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some exciting reading planned for the weekend. Yesterday was the first day of the year that I got to sit outside in the sun and read, it was glorious.

Days

What are days for?

Days are where we live.

They come, they wake us

Time and time over.

They are to be happy in:

Where can we live but days?

 

Ah, solving that question

Brings the priest and the doctor

In their long coats

Running over the fields.

 

Philip Larkin

 

Lady Book Dragon.