Happy Friday!
This weekend there are a lot of Remembrance services and parades happening so I have chosen a poem by Housman who wrote some of his most famous poetry during the Great War. This poem helps remind me just how young so many of the soldiers were.
Here Dead We Lie
Here dead we lie
Because we did not choose
To live and shame the land
From which we sprung.
Life, to be sure,
Is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is,
And we were young.
A. E. Housman
Happy reading.
Happy November!
This poem is from The Devil’s Thoughts by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
From his brimstone bed at break of day
A walking the Devil is gone,
To visit his little snug farm the earth,
And see how his stock goes on.
Over the hill and over the dale,
And he went over the plain,
And backward and forward he switched his long tail
As a gentleman switches his cane.
And how then was the Devil drest?
Oh! he was in his Sunday’s best:
His jacket was red and his breeches were blue,
And there was a hole where the tail came through.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Happy reading.
Happy Halloween Everyone!
I hope you all have a nice spooky book to read and celebrate halloween with.
I have chosen a little poem to celebrate.
In a dark, dark wood there was a dark, dark house,
and in that dark, dark house there was a dark, dark room,
and in that dark, dark room there was a dark, dark cupboard,
and in that dark, dark cupboard there was a dark, dark shelf,
and on that dark, dark shelf there was a dark, dark box,
and in that dark, dark box there was a … GHOST!
Anon
Happy spooky reading!
Happy Friday!
So I have again returned to an old favourite of mine. I really can not get enough of Christina Rossetti’s poetry. To be honest I am getting really fed up of all this rain we have been having recently, so I have gone for a poem about the wind, as to me this would be a nice change.
Who Has Seen the Wind?
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing thro’.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
Christina Rossetti
Happy Reading
Happy Friday!
I hope everyone has exciting plans for the weekend. My chosen poem this Friday is by an American author Margaret Wise Brown (May 23, 1910 – November 13, 1952). Brown wrote children’s books and poetry.
Who saw the petals
drop from the rose?
I, said the spider,
But nobody knows.
Who saw the sunset
flash on a bird?
I, said the fish,
But nobody heard.
Who saw the fog
come over the sea?
I, said the sea pigeon,
Only me.
Who saw the first
green light of the sun?
I, said the night owl,
The only one.
Who saw the moss
creep over the stone?
I, said the grey fox,
All alone.
Margaret Wise Brown
Happy reading.
Happy Friday!
Today’s poem has a different take on things, instead of focusing on Christopher Columbus discovering America, it focuses on the people who lost their lands.
Lament of an Arawak Child
Once I played with the hummingbirds
and sang songs to the sea
I told my secrets to the waves
and they told theirs to me.
Now there are no more hummingbirds
the sea’s songs are all sad
for strange men came and took this land
and plundered all we had.
They made my people into slaves
they worked us to the bone
they battered us and tortured us
and laughed to hear us groan.
Today we’ll take a long canoe
and set sail on the sea
we’ll steer our journey by the stars
and find a new country.
Pamela Mordecai
Happy Reading
Happy Friday!
I hope you all have a fantastic weekend planned.
Today’s poem is by a new poet for me, Eve Merriam. Eve Merriam was an American poet and writer.
On the pad of my thumb
are whorls, whirls, wheels
in a unique design:
mine alone.
What a treasure to own!
My own flesh, my own feelings.
No other, however grand or base,
can ever contain the same.
My signature,
thumbing the pages of my time.
My universe key,
my singularity.
Impress, implant,
I am myself,
of all my atom parts I am the sum.
And out of my blood and my brain
I make my own interior weather,
my own sun and rain.
Imprint my mark upon the world
whatever I shall become.
Eve Merriam
Well the weather is starting to upset me, I want it to be summer again. I really dislike getting up in the morning and it is dark and coming home from work in the dark and when the clocks go back at the end of October it will be even worse.
So todays poem is about migrating birds. I must admit I am rather envious of the Wild Geese following the sun.
Something Told the Wild Geese
Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, – ‘Snow.’
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, lustre-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, – ‘Frost.’
All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered Ice.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly, –
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.
Rachel Field
Happy reading.
Happy Friday my fellow Book Dragons.
I hope everyone has some wonderful bookish plans for the weekend. I sadly have a very full weekend work wise so will be lucky to get much reading in.
Today I noticed how the leaves on the trees are starting to change colour and that autumn is definitely on the way, so I thought an autumn based poem was required.
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
Robert Louis Stevenson
Happy Reading
Picture is not of a bonfire but one of the fires we have in our house.
Happy Friday Everyone!
Apologies in the delay of the Friday Poetry post, yesterday I just did not feel like blogging and today assignments got the better of me.
Today I have gone for a poem by my all time favourite author J. R. R. Tolkien. This poem features in his book The Fellowship of the Ring, which is the first book of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I used to read this trilogy every year but have not read it for at least 6 or 7 years, I think it might be time to reread an old favourite.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
J. R. R. Tolkien
Happy Reading.
Lady Book Dragon 