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Monthly Archives: November 2014
A Little Autumn Nonsense
A Little Autumn Nonsense ~ The pigeons chattering annoys me but the more intellectual magpies won’t respond to my overtures. I tried to have a conversation with the March Hare, because I admire the way he is always properly accessorized, … Continue reading
The Station
The station is lined with strangers all clutching their dreams in carefully bagged zip locked freeze dried safety netted compartments checking their tickets over and over again in case the destination had decided to change as the birds perform … Continue reading
The Dry Salvages ~ by T.S. Eliot (Four Quartets)
The Dry Salvages ~ by T.S. Eliot (The Dry Salvages – presumably les trois sauvages – is a small group of rocks, with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape Ann, Massachusetts. Salvages is pronounced to rhyme with assuages. Groaner: a whistling buoy) I I … Continue reading
East Coker ~ by T.S. Eliot (Four Quartets)
East Coker I In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new … Continue reading
Burnt Norton ~ by T.S. Eliot (Four Quartets)
Burnt Norton I Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining … Continue reading
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock ~ by T.S. Eliot
Pssst… don’t look now…. but it appears I have just declared this T.S. Eliot week…. (enjoy) The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa … Continue reading
The Waste Land ~ by T.S. Eliot
The Waste Land ~ by T. S. ELIOT FOR EZRA POUND IL MIGLIOR FABBRO I. The Burial of the Dead April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring … Continue reading
Disguised Poetry
I keep them up my sleeves hidden secret like silk scarves like flashing coins like onion skinned old letters I disguise them blend them into the fabric of my living day like raven feathers in the dark and sometimes sometimes … Continue reading
Someday Soon
Someday soon I promise myself I will call you on the phone and have something to say I will make you laugh make you feel stable and loved and appreciated I will say see you later and really mean it… … Continue reading
Chimera Poetry 