December Daisies and December Days

Image credit: nbelokonskaya from Pixabay 

Ah, how the sight of fair untimely flowers

Awakes a subtle sentiment, and fills

The soul with quiet pleasure. Something thrills

Our being to the core and softly showers

Strange yearning thought upon us. When the close

Of a December day is stirless, mild

As is this twilight hour, we are beguiled

By its seductive softness: and there grows

(As one by one from out the placid sky

The tranquil stars appear), the half-formed doubt

Whether the scene be real. For without

A question kindly Auster cannot try

To bring a greater boon. Joys that arise

All unexpected we most keenly prize.

~ H. T. Mackenzie Bell

Daily Life

Source: jakartaglobe.com

A parrot of irritation sits

on my shoulder, pecks

at my head, ruffling his feathers

in my ear. He repeats

everything I say, like a child

trying to irritate the parent.

Too much to do today: the dracena

that’s outgrown its pot, a mountain

of bills to pay and nothing in the house

to eat. Too many clothes need washing

and the dog needs his shots.

It just goes on and on, I say

to myself, no one around, and catch

myself saying it, a ball hit so straight

to your glove you’d have to be

blind not to catch it. And of course

I hope it does go on and on

forever, the little pain,

the little pleasure, the sun

a blood orange in the sky, the sky

parrot blue and the day

unfolding like a bird slowly

spreading its wings, though I know,

saying it, that it won’t.

~ Susan Wood

Daily Life

Source: jakartaglobe.com

A parrot of irritation sits

on my shoulder, pecks

at my head, ruffling his feathers

in my ear. He repeats

everything I say, like a child

trying to irritate the parent.

Too much to do today: the dracena

that’s outgrown its pot, a mountain

of bills to pay and nothing in the house

to eat. Too many clothes need washing

and the dog needs his shots.

It just goes on and on, I say

to myself, no one around, and catch

myself saying it, a ball hit so straight

to your glove you’d have to be

blind not to catch it. And of course

I hope it does go on and on

forever, the little pain,

the little pleasure, the sun

a blood orange in the sky, the sky

parrot blue and the day

unfolding like a bird slowly

spreading its wings, though I know,

saying it, that it won’t.

~ Susan Wood

Quote: Poetry

Source: Tumblr/Favim

Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.

~ A. E. Housman

 

Quote: Poetry

Source: Tumblr/Favim

Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.

~ A. E. Housman