Joanna Preston: Tasmanaut Poet, Editor and Creative Writing Tutor
for Stewart Had we shelf-space enough, and time, This gluttony, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and read away The afternoons of our love’s long day; You, by the fickle muse’s side Through Poetry stroll; I, in the tide Of Comedians’ Biographies drift. We would Build ourselves an ark of Fantasy, and flood The kitchen-cum-dining …
Continue reading "Tuesday Poem – ‘To His Bibliophilic Wife’"
Sir, say no more. Within me ’tis as if The green and climbing eyesight of a cat Crawled near my mind’s poor birds. – Trumbull Stickney (1874 – 1904) I love good metaphor poems. I remember reading this many years ago, and a garbled version of it has stuck in my head ever since …
Continue reading "Poem – Trumbull Stickney “Sir, say no more”"
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till …
Continue reading "Poem – John Keats, “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer”"
To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time Gather ye rose-buds while ye may: Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age …
Continue reading "Poem – Robert Herrick, “To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time”"
Wanting to learn this place, this collection of houses and people and lives that I came to willingly, that I chose, open-eyed, and that seemed to even welcome us here with cherry blossom, with the heartbreathless green of new leaf after winter, after wandering lost, that welcomed us with the gentle faith of my own …
A Dark Feathered Art 