Joanna Preston: Tasmanaut Poet
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: The firefly wakens: waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danae …
Continue reading "Tuesday Poem – “Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal”, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson"
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God's throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In souls as countries lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy …
Continue reading "Tuesday Poem – “Perfect Grief”, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning"
i.m. Frances Horovitz 1938-1983 That March night I remember how we heard a baby crying in a neighbouring room but found him sleeping quietly in his cot. The others went to bed and we sat late talking of children and the men we loved. You thought you’d like another child. ‘Too late.’ you said. And …
Continue reading "Tuesday Poem – “The Hare” by Gillian Clarke"
It’s a North East Valley specialty – attenuated streets, filaments extruded steeply up from North Road, streets you could hardly turn a dog around in – not a large dog anyway – and scarfie flats with names and legends passed round from pissup to pissup ... and where an early morning piddle ended with a …
Continue reading "Tuesday Friday Poem – “Visit to Nicky’s House”"
Leodum is minum swylce him mon lac gife; willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð. Ungelic is us. Wulf is on iege, ic on oþerre. Fæst is þæt eglond, fenne biworpen. Sindon wælreowe weras þær on ige; willað …
A Dark Feathered Art 