Poetry Blogs (old myths)
Rose Casserley on no more the demanding sound of his snapping fingers (1 hour ago)
No sooner had we landed when, at a loss,
we struck out for the islands. not by airplane –
wheels on the shallows – but in the drink, again
cast off into the Med, each a Pangloss –
ebulliance deranged – sailed for Paxos,
island of the shotgun, Easter rain
whose white chalk gulleys and a firefly lane
lit us home through the olive alleys, moss.
O’Hara was right to remind us of Pan,
Tuesday 19th March 2019 9:36 am
Semper animus libera
O Thou that watches over all
And marks the good in man
Unnamed Godhead of all the thronging spirits
Who guard thy mortal worlds -
When skies darken and the plunging waves roil through
When the mountains themselves spit ruddy fire
And melt into valleys or crash steaming into the ocean deeps -
To keep thy people safe in those mortal li...
Friday 12th January 2018 1:55 pm
The sun will never rise again,
although its early morning stain
still paints the heavens with a hue
of orange, red and purple. Few
will listen to my sad refrain.
I studied long, no doubts remain.
Though saying so risks Papal chain
for claiming this heresy true.
The sun will never rise again.
Look to the skies a...
Thursday 7th March 2013 11:49 am