Guelder-rose “No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.” Hopkins, “The Windhover” Here in the garden a circumference of five petalled flowers a pure white sterile corona and then within a hub of of micro flowers pollenous and fertile almost…
From the Poetry Garden 4 Here is the 4th. Session from the Poetry Garden. The first poem “In Ennerdale” (for Jenny) is already on this blog, the second new poem “Guelder-rose” is not. I can send you a copy or wait and I will put it up on here soon. It is my first…
From The Poetry Garden 3 Here is the third visit to the Poetry Garden. My friend Matthew in San Francisco has a series of YouTube presentatations made out in the Wilderness, near the Yuba River, I think, in the Sierras of California, called The Rheomode Series a YouTube playlist. One of my poems here is…
This is the second “From the Poetry Garden” reading: we have tried to improve the sound, which was poor last time. The poem about the house s an old one, put on mostly for an introdution to the environment of the garden. The second poem ” Deep Time Rising” is more important for me. “Deep…
This is the first of a series which I have called “From The Poetry Garden”. We have a quiet seat in the garden of The Anchorhold surrounded by a Cedar of Lebanon and the small various Christmas Trees used in the house at Christmas, which we then plant; there are four at the moment which…
An on-line group I joined to explore our relationship with the Earth was given a project to write “A Love Letter to the Earth”. I didn’t want to do this and at first couldn’t quite explain why. I thought it was “blissy”, that is, emotionally sentimental. I have, like most people, written love letters…
Considering the Snail The snail pushes through a green night, for the grass is heavy with water and meets over the bright path he makes, where rain has darkened the earth’s dark. He moves in a wood of desire, pale antlers barely stirring as he hunts. I cannot tell what power is at…
I like this example very much: it does of course beg the question as to whether this is a dream or not. I like to think I/we am/are having a participatory relationship with the moon and the ocean. But then I’m not a Buddhist. Love to get some comments about this. Does it remind anyone…
In Time of Plague 2. “We live in a mysterious world, a world that will not yield up its secrets either simply or by force. I’ll begin, therefore, by asking for a willingness to be complex. I don’t mean we should give up valuing simplicity, but recognize that one-sidedly simple critiques of the contemporary…
Goose Down Day Cocooned under duck down goose down day mug of tea beside me nothing like April light gray shorts twisting as I turn on an elbow to half sit anger hard in my cock eyelids stuck no cough no fever throat a bit raw breathe deep think I can still smell my sweat…
“Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.” (The Desiderata) It is the Christian season of Lent and just as I like to sing carols…
My favourite poet, if not the first living poet that moved my soul somehow was Thom Gunn. He was an English, “leather boy”, who moved to California in the 60ties and lived the rest of his life there. He died, maybe of an accidental drug overdose, in 2004. My title is really a quote from…
Odyseus and Hermes by Thom Gunn It is amazing to find this poem I had never seen before in Thom Gunn’s collection “The Man with Night Sweats”. The second line, “-beard scarcely visible on his chin-” is from his introductory quote from Homer on the opening page of his collection “Moly” written in 1971…
Meeting Beetle: In my video on this blog called “Embracing Gaia Two” I mention a day at Schumacher College in Devon, UK. when I went for a long walk alone on the Dartington Estate. It lies on the edge of Dartmoor and the river Dart flows through it. For the first time in my life…
I would like to start a Poet’s group in Galway or near there. Maybe creative writing students from NUIG or GMIT who find the fare there a bit dull might be interested in a bi weekly or monthly meet. I have a tendency to like young poets who challenge conventions but have no age, gender…
