Introduction to poems
I write poems all the time, but publish haphazardly. The poem comes first and the creative process is so different and so much more interesting than the business of poetry – if it can be called that:
“After all, it’s rather a privilege
amid the affluent traffic
to serve this unpopular art which cannot be turned into
background noise for study
or hung as a status trophy by rising executives,
cannot ‘be done’ like Venice
or abridged like Tolstoy, but stubbornly still insists upon
being read or ignored.” W H Auden
It is a shame that this artform is so undervalued in developed counties where visual entertainment has taken priority. Poetry is still admired, recited and talked about in countries like Bangladesh and Arab speaking countries.
A weak form of the Capgras phenomenon and Double Drummers, Jagun
Eos wants to rewild my mind . . .
Where we live – three walks ~ poems and photographs Wednesday Oct 4 The wood’s exhalation is palpable after two days of rain, after 4 months of dry, black bars slant shadow across the aqueous air. Above our heads a Golden Whistler sings from a rickety branch, his whole body vibrating urgently responding to a […]
orange trumpet flowers
from a mistletoe scatter the poem without end . . .
A Song Thrush introduces the entrance . . .
Chalk-white puffs and eggwhite cumulus billow with a little oil
steeping your sky, but the sea’s too blue and the horses too white.
The water is warm far side in the sun and venous flow to sea,
leaves play slow tag . . .
Love brimming and with God crying wolf . . .
Addendum: Poetry at first light – a poem Here is one of the poems you heard: c3’40 Spring can’t wait ~ September, Jagun – extract A Golden Whistler sings from a low Bloodwood branch, flycatchers are chasing a cuckoo and honeyeaters chase each other with tenacity as spring charges forward. Not a breeze in the sky but […]
I have forgotten his birthday, the noise of frogs . . .