Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry. ~ Mark Strand
The Strongest Lesson
My notebook has remained blank for months thanks to the light you shower around me.
This morning was something. A little snow lay on the ground.
The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I…
The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the…
I bend over the edge: is it the sea or my poor thought?
If I could have Two things in one: The peace of the grave, And the light of the sun; My hands across My thin breast-bone, But aware of the…
Do not look for him In brittle mountain streams: They are too cold for any god; And do not examine the angry rivers For shreds of his soft…
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every…
When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints…
Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough The land and not the sea, And leave the soldiers at their drill, And all about the idle hill…
The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. ~ poem by Carl Sandburg
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees above a snow glaze.
The Soul Selects her own Society — Then — shuts the door — To her divine Majority — Present no More Unmoved — She notes the Chariots …
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up…
Lovely Words — Poetry has no stories yet.
