Happy Friday!
My chosen poem today is a little different but something that means a lot to me. It is quite often used as a blessing and is a traditional Irish Gaelic prayer.
A Prayer for Travellers May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; The rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand. Anon
Happy Reading
Happy Friday!
Yesterday was National Poetry Day so my chosen poem is one that was specially written for National Poetry Day in 2016.
Messages look closely and you'll find them everywhere in fields of patterned grasses drafted by the hare embroidered by the bluebells through a wood in scattered trails of blossom stamped into the mud scorched by heather-fire across the moors in looping snail-trails scrawled on forest floors scored across the sky by screaming swifts in rolling, twisting peaks of drifting mountain mist scribbled by an ocean on the sand look closely: you will see and understand. Matt Goodfellow
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Happy Friday!
I hope everyone has some exciting plans for the weekend. My chosen poem this week is by Emily Bronte and I think it is perfect for this time of year.
Fall, Leaves, Fall Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night's decay Ushers in a drearier day. Emily Bronte
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Happy Friday!
I hope you all have some fun plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is one from my childhood. Mr Toad was one of my favourite characters in The Wind in the Willows so I have decided to share The Song of Mr Toad today.
The Song of Mr Toad The world has held great Heroes, As history-books have showed; But never a name to go down to fame Compared with that of Toad! The clever men at Oxford Know all that there is to be knowed. But they none of them knew one half as much As intelligent Mr Toad! The animals sat in the Ark and cried, Their tears in torrents flowed. Who was it said, 'There's land ahead'? Encouraging Mr Toad! The Army all saluted As they marched along the road. Was it the King? Or Kitchener? No. It was Mr Toad! The Queen and her Ladies-in-waiting Sat at the window and sewed. She cried, 'Look! who's that handsome man?' They answered, 'Mr Toad.' Kenneth Grahame
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Happy Friday!
My chosen poem today is by Gerard Manley Hopkins. Gerard Manley Hopkins was born on the 28th July 1844, he was an English poet and Jesuit priest. His two main themes in his poetry are nature and religion. He died in 1889 of what is believed to be typhoid fever. His work was largely ignored during his life but was published posthumously.
Pied Beauty Glory be to God for dappled things - For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted and pieced - fold, fallow, and plough; And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him. Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Hello!
I hope everyone is having a good week so far.
My chosen poem this week is by a new poet for me and I chose it because it made me laugh.
Astrophysics Lesson I took an orange and a plum To demonstrate the Earth and Sun; held in place by gravity - Our little planet, you and me. I grabbed some grapes for all the stars And cast them out so wide and far; Distant suns and foreign moons In all four corners of the room. The wonders of the galaxy Spread out before class 2BT. 'Where did they come from?' someone cried; 'From the fruit bowl' I replied. Ade Hall
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Hello!
I hope everyone is having a good start to September so far.
My chosen poem this week is by William Wordsworth.
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air, Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!
William Worsdworth
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Happy Friday!
I hope everyone has had a good week so far.
My chosen poem this week is by the Welsh poet, orator and priest George Herbert (1593-1633).
Prayer (I) Prayer the Church's banquet, angels' age, God's breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage, The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth; Engine against th' Almighty, sinners' tow'r, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, The six-days' world transposing in an hour, A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear; Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss, Exalted manna, gladness of the best, Heaven in ordinary, man well drest, The milky way, the bird of Paradise, Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul'd blood, The land of spices; something understood. George Herbert
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Happy Friday!
I hope everyone has had a good week so far and have good plans for the weekend.
My chosen poem this week is by the American poet and short story writer Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979).
Thunder And suddenly the giants tired of play. - With huge, rough hands they flung the gods' gold balls And silver harps and mirrors at the walls Of Heaven, and trod, ashamed, where lay The loveliness of flowers. Frightened Day On white feet ran from out the temple halls, The blundering dark was filled with great war-calls, And Beauty, shamed, slunk silently away. Be quiet, little wind among the leaves That turn pale faces to the coming storm. Be quiet, little foxes in your lairs, And birds and mice be still - a giant grieves For his forgotten might. Hark now the warm And heavy stumbling down the leaden stairs! Elizabeth Bishop
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Happy Friday!
My chosen poem this week is by another new poet for me. John Updike (1932-2009) was an American novelist, poet, short story writer, art and literary critic.
August The sprinkler twirls. The summer wanes. The pavement wears Popsicle stains. The playground grass Is worn to dust. The weary swings Creak, creak with rust. The trees are bored With being green. Some people leave The local scene And go to seaside Bungalows And take off nearly All their clothes. John Updike
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Lady Book Dragon 