Category Archives: poetry
october slipped quietly in.
“Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now how comfortable it will be to touch the earth instead of the nothingness of the air and the endless freshets of wind? And don’t you think the trees, especially those with mossy hollows, are beginning to look for the birds that will come – six, a dozen – to sleep inside their bodies? And don’t you hear the goldenrod whispering goodbye, the everlasting being crowned with the first tuffets of snow? The pond stiffens and the white field over which the fox runs so quickly brings out its long blue shadows. The wind wags its many tails. And in the evening the piled firewood shifts a little, longing to be on its way.”
~Mary Oliver, “Song for Autumn”
art credit: willowday flower project by gina, stockholm
at last, may.
yes it was yesterday, i think they may have over-celebrated and lost count.
the fairy dance
the soft stars are shining,
the moon is alight;
the folk of the forest
are dancing tonight:
o swift and gay
is the song that they sing:
they float and sway
as they dance in a ring.
o seek not to find them,
the wee folk so fair;
they’re shy as the swallow
and swift as the air:
if you come, they are gone
like a snowflake in may:
like a breath, like a sigh,
they vanish away.
-katherine davis (1892-1980)
image source: peter gray’s vintage art and postcards
noetic or poetic?
Part of speech: adjective
Origin: Greek, mid-17th century
Definition: Relating to mental activity or the intellect.
Examples in a sentence:
“The philosophy department attracts noetic students.”
“Noah was equally athletic and noetic”
Some travel life,
Shining brightly noetic
But as for me,
I’d rather wax poetic.
image credit: npr brightside
alley filled with public creative expression
“i’m a great believer in poetry out of the classroom, in public places,
on subways, trains, on cocktail napkins.
i’d rather have my poems on the subway than around the seminar table at an mfa program.”
ann arbor, michigan, usa
at the 44th annual ann arbor folk festival
5 live streamed hours on saturday night
every kind of music and performance
big and small
i once again
heard beautiful poems played
by my favorite pianist
whose song ‘thanksgiving’ i heard for the very first time
many years ago on the radio while on a road trip to toronto
having no idea who it was or what the song was
being very moved by it
not knowing if i’d ever hear it again
serendipity stepped in
when driving back home
with a windham hill artists’ compilation cd
an unexpected gift from my host
on which he was a featured artist playing that very song.
“music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart.”