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Firemajic's Daily Dose of Poetic Inspiration (3 Viewers)

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Ollie, I will keep my fingers crossed, that your Lady gets her snow! If it does snow, make her a nice cup of tea, put her chair by the window, let her watch the snow, while you watch her .... wish I could send her a brownie...
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
I'll throw
my
voice into
the stars and maybe
the echo of my words will
be written for you
in the clouds by
sunrise.
All I am trying
to say is:
I will love
you
through the darkness.

Christopher Poindexter
 

Olly Buckle

Mentor
Patron
No secret, but no false romance either. It is neither sugar nor saccharine, it is sounds and pictures, and an affirmation of constancy, nothing wrong with that, in fact it is quite life affirming.
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
No secret, but no false romance either. It is neither sugar nor saccharine, it is sounds and pictures, and an affirmation of constancy, nothing wrong with that, in fact it is quite life affirming.

It is the ONLY way to be, Dear Ollie.... anything less, most likely would not last...
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
and nodding by the fire, take down this book;
and slowly read and dream of the soft look
your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
and loved your beauty, with love false or true,
but one man loved the Pilgrim Soul in you,
and loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
murmur , a little sadly, how love fled
and paced upon the mountains overhead
and hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

W. B. Yeats


This is for you, Ollie....
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Well, I do like 'A little lie down' sometimes, and I am certainly grey, but 'full of sleep' is stronging it a bit :)

Ollie, now stopIT.... you know damn good and well that you are not OLD and sleepy and I do not think of you as OLD and sleepy! sooo the first line of the poem is "WHEN" ... Some day, if we are all lucky, we all will have the privilege of dozing and dreaming by the fire.....

love you bunches....

We are going to have a winter storm starting tonight.... Me and Smooch will be staying in and dozing by the fire, in wonderful solitude... sleepy and content in each other's company...I will have my books and Smooch will have her bone....
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Where My Books Go

All the words that I gather,
and all the words that I write,
must spread out their wings untiring,
and never rest in their flight,
till they come where your sad, sad
heart is,
and sing to you in the night,
beyond where the waters are moving,
storm darkened or starry bright.

W. B. Yeats
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Dust of Snow

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 had rued.

Robert Frost




This poem came to mind as I was sweeping snow off my back porch, so the birds would have a place to eat... They waited in the near by bushes for their daily sunflower seeds... ;)
 

Olly Buckle

Mentor
Patron
I have put a bird table in the back garden and I put stuff on it every morning, then sit in the back room and have my breakfast with half an eye on it to see what comes. The nuthatch (sitta europaea) is usually the first, but I was a bit late this morning this morning and a jackdaw (corvus monedula) tried to join him. The nuthatch weighs in at about half an ounce, the jackdaw about half a pound, and maybe about two and a half times the size. The nuthatch dived straight at him with his dagger like bill and saw him off, "I come first!"
 
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Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
The Daffodils, by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
that floats on high o'er vales and hills,
when all at once I saw a crowd,
a host, of golden daffodils;
beside the lake, beneath the trees,
fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
and twinkle on the Milky Way,
they stretch in never- ending line
along the margin of the bay:
ten thousand I saw at a glance,
tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
in such jocund company:
I gazed- and gazed with little thought
what wealth the show to me had brought :

For oft, when on my couch I lie
in vacant or in pensive mood,
they flash upon that inward eye
which is the bliss of solitude;
and then my heart with pleasure fills,
and dances with the daffodils.

In memory of my Mother, who loved Spring....

This poem reminds me of some of my most treasured memories,
when she took me out to her garden and showed me the first daffodils of Spring...

I can finally look at the flowers and smile, but I still miss her EVERY single day....
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Alone, by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
as others were; I have not seen
as others saw; I could not bring
my passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
my sorrow; I could not awaken
my heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then, in my childhood, in the dawn
of a most stormy life-was drawn
from every depth of good and ill
the mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent or fountain,
from the red cliff of the mountain,
from the sun that round me rolled
in its autumn tint of gold,
from the lightening in the sky
as it passed me flying by,
from the thunder and the storm,
and the clouds that took the form
[when the rest of heaven was blue]
of a demon in my view.


I love the cool line breaks Poe used in the first part of this melancholy poem....
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Now I Become Myself, by May Sarton

Now I become myself. It's taken
time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
worn other people's faces,
run madly, as if time were there,
terribly old, crying a warning,
"hurry, you will be dead before..."
[What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?]
Now to stand still, to be here,
feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
is my hand; the shadow of a word
as thought shapes the shaper
falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
from wish to action, word to silence,
my work, my love, my time, my face
gathered into one intense
gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
fertile, detached and always spent,
falls but does not exhaust the root,
so all the poem is, can give,
grows in me to become the song,
made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
all of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
The Beauty of Solitude, by Mary Oliver

When I am alone I
can become
invisible. I can sit
on the top of a
dune as motionless
as an uprise of
weeds, until the
foxes run by
unconcerned. I can
hear the almost
unhearable sound
of the roses
singing.


from "when I go to the woods"
 

River Rose

Senior Member
As a solo hiker,,I understand this poem
Every ounce of the forest speaks to me in a different way
It fills my soul and it’s the one place I find peace
I am happy in the solitude of the forest
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
As a solo hiker,,I understand this poem
Every ounce of the forest speaks to me in a different way
It fills my soul and it’s the one place I find peace
I am happy in the solitude of the forest

I understand that, I also need to spend time alone in the woods or along the river, as did my mother.. there are many poems about solitude, and I think most creative people need that solitary contemplation, away from the noise and chaos...
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
"Oh, When I Was In Love With You"... A. E. Housman

Oh, when I was in love with you,
then I was clean and brave,
and miles around the wonder grew
how well did I behave.

And now the fancy passes by,
and nothing will remain,
and miles around they'll say that I
am quite myself again.
 

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