We are moving ever closer to Halloween and Kwika on To Rhyme or not to Rhyme as written our first spook inspired poem. I have started crunching one around in my head which I hope to have for next Wednesday when our them will be spooky poems of all sorts. For this week's poetic Journey you can just tip toe up to the subject like my poem below about the dead or avoid it all together like Aussie Lynn Downunder.
Heidi joins us again posting on Multiply - Welcome to my World
Becky on My So-Called Life.
NicholasV on Intelliblog
Bee's Blog
Heidi joins us again posting on Multiply - Welcome to my World
Becky on My So-Called Life.
NicholasV on Intelliblog
Bee's Blog
Do you have a poem of your own or anothers to offer up for our enjoyment? Leave a comment here or message me your url on Facebook. It is a multi-blog poetry tour.
1914 IV: The Dead
These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colours of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; known
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.
There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.
Rupert Brooke
More poems from Rupert Brooke
These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,
And sunset, and the colours of the earth.
These had seen movement, and heard music; known
Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;
Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;
Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.
There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.
Rupert Brooke
More poems from Rupert Brooke
my poem
ReplyDeleteThanks for joining in Heidi. Cannot leave a comment on Multiply as we don't like each other. But I did read your poem and it was very nice.
ReplyDeleteMultiply and me by we
ReplyDeleteHaven't read Rupert Brooke for years. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteJacqui, my poem here: http://bekkieslife.blogspot.com/2009/10/poetry-wednesday-things-that-go-bump-in.html
ReplyDeleteJacqui, the Rupert Brooke is beautiful and haunting. Very appropriate.
Heidi, I'm not on Multiply either, so I can't leave a comment, but I loved your poem.
One of my favourite poets. Nice choice.
ReplyDeleteRupert Brooke is also a favourite of mine.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this offering!