Poetry Blogs (tender)
Rose Casserley on WW1. My brave ( fibbing about his age to enlist ) Grandfather. (11 hours ago)
The soft rising sun mellowed
by the thin layer of
slowly dissipating clouds
leading me on my way
to my destination
Thursday 28th March 2019 7:17 am
Grace and Favour
For all that a life that's truly led
provides the anxious soul with balm,
yet a gentle breeze, invisible and calm,
precedes the storm where the meek have fled.
In Summer's graceful darkling glides the hawk
in flight over burnished grain, 'till late
a final stoop unearths its prey: its fate
the slashing shadows where the killers stalk.
Thursday 31st January 2019 12:41 pm
This rumination came from growing awareness of my mortality which, in turn, is generated and measured by the expanding list of things once given or assumed that, alas, are no longer possible.
How shall I talk to you, my friend?
How should I regard you
(and will I care)
as you grow ever older before my gaze
while I stay young?
Who are you? Dare I look on yo...
Monday 15th January 2018 2:33 pm
The key of currency
is the changing of hands,
a baton passed on
in constant motion
that binds together
all its participants.
A fresh, crisp bill
is a virgin still,
between your fingers
and epic journey
are yet to unfold.
Thursday 31st January 2013 2:24 pm