Monday, July 31, 2017

Oh, For A Bee's Experience

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!

~ Emily Dickinson

The Historical Sense

The historical sense involves a perception, not only of the pastness of the past, but of its presence.

~ T. S. Eliot

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Slugs Leave Their Lair

Slugs leave their lair.

~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Flowers Of Spring

Mary, I love to sing
About the flowers of Spring,
For they resemble thee.

~ John Clare

Saturday, July 29, 2017

The Forest Of Old

Now in old age, I know the value of silence,
The world's affairs no longer stir my heart.
Turning to myself, I have no greater plan,
All I can do is return to the forest of old.

~ Wang Wei

Friday, July 28, 2017

Now Is No Time

Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.

~ Ernest Hemingway

Painting: The Old Man And The Sea by Aleksandr Petrov

Poor, Deluded Shawondasee!

Poor, deluded Shawondasee!
'T was no woman that you gazed at,
'T was no maiden that you sighed for,
'T was the prairie dandelion
That through all the dreamy Summer
You had gazed at with such longing,
You had sighed for with such passion,
And had puffed away forever,
Blown into the air with sighing.
Ah! deluded Shawondasee!

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thursday, July 27, 2017

If You Have One Teapot

If you have one teapot
And can brew your tea in it
That will do quite well.
How much does he lack himself
Who must have a lot of things?

~ Sen no Rikyū

Painting: Teapot with Cherry or Plum Blossoms (ca. 1750-1850) - Japanese Art Collection - Library of Congress

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Where'er You Tread

Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

~ Alexander Pope

O Summer Day Beside The Joyous Sea!

O summer day beside the joyous sea!

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This Costly Blood

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

~ William Shakespeare

Monday, July 24, 2017

O Swallow

O Swallow, flying from the golden woods,
Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine,
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.

~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunday, July 23, 2017


Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,
Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

~ Rupert Brooke

I Am Glad As A Child

I am glad as a child, in this beautiful weather;
I have tossed all my burdens and trials away;
My heart is as light – yes, as light as a feather;
I am care-free, and careless, and happy today.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Blest Power Of Sunshine!

Blest power of sunshine! – genial day,
What balm, what life is in thy ray!

~ Thomas Moore

Behind The Veil Of Each Night

Behind the veil of each night there is a smiling dawn.

~ Khalil Gibran

Saturday, July 22, 2017

The Roses Are Waking

The roses are waking, my love, my love,
Roses with dew-gems gleaming.

~ William Thomson

Friday, July 21, 2017

A Light Exists In Spring

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.

~ Emily Dickinson

The Happy White-Throat

The happy white-throat on the swaying bough,
Rocked by the impulse of the gadding wind
That ushers in the April showers, now
Carols right joyously, and now reclined.

~ John Clare

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Yippee! I'm A Poet

Yippee! I'm a poet, and I know it.
Hope I don't blow it.

~ Bob Dylan

Photo: Dylan at his desk - 1964

How Many Roads?

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?

~ Bob Dylan

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Like As The Sun Surrounded By The Clouds

تبدت لنا كالشمس تحت غمامة
بَدا حاجبٌ منها وضَنّتْ بحاجبِ

~ قيس بن الخطيم

Like as the sun surrounded by the clouds,
Her face she partly showed and partly veiled.

~ Qais Ibn Al-Khatim
(Tr. Poetictouch)

Pure-White Fan

So lonely ... lovely ...
The exquisite pure-white fan
Of the girl I lost.

~ Yosa Buson

I Walk: I Prefer Walking

I walk: I prefer walking.

~ Jane Austen

A Kite Is The Last Poem You've Written

A kite is the last poem you've written,
so you give it to the wind,
but you don't let it go
until someone finds you
something else to do.

~ Leonard Cohen

Monday, July 17, 2017

A Fragrant Freshness

There is a fragrant freshness after showers
In the warm noon that smells o' the green grass
And herbage round almost as sweet as flowers.

~ John Clare

A Bush Of May Flowers

A bush of May flowers with the bees about them.

~ John Keats

Saturday, July 15, 2017

The Lilly

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble Sheep a threat'ning horn;
While the Lilly white shall in Love delight,
Nor a thorn, nor a threat, stain her beauty bright.

~ William Blake

Full Of Wantonness

And the wind, full of wantonness, wooes like a lover
The young aspen-trees till they tremble all over.

~ Thomas Moore

The Dayesye

The dayesye or elles the eye of day,
The emperice and flour of floures alle.

~ Geoffrey Chaucer

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Life Is All Too Short For Love

'Tis strange how men find time to hate,
When life is all too short for love.

~ W. H. Davies

Photo: Posted on 29 Aug 2016 by Reddit user RealLiveGirl with the caption: "My Grandma, 96, with my Grandpa, 100, hours before her death this weekend. 77 years of marriage."

Then Clasp My Hand

Then clasp my hand with closer hold,
True hearts are never unconsoled, –
They fear not care, nor cloud, nor cold,
And smile at growing old!

~ Elizabeth Akers Allen

The Leaves Of Memory

The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

The Cataract

The cataract, whirling down the precipice,
Elbows down rocks and, shouldering, thunders through.

~ John Clare

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

The Muse's Friend

The Muse's friend, Tea, does our fancy aid,
Repress those vapours which the head invade,
And keeps that palace of the soul serene.

~ Edmund Waller

Photo: Allen Ginsberg drinking tea - Kansas 1966

Monday, July 10, 2017

I Love Wild Flowers

I love wild flowers.

~ John Clare

I Wanna Be Your Lover Baby

I wanna be your lover baby
I wanna be your man
Love you like no other baby
Like no other can

~ The Beatles

Sunday, July 09, 2017

Ripe Grapes

Ripe grapes with purpling lustre shine
Where graceful droops the clinging vine.

~ Phebe A. Holder

Many And Many A Verse I Hope To Write

Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage.

~ John Keats

True Poetry

Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and do not learn. Your poetry issues of its own accord when you and the object have become one – when you have plunged deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there. However well-phrased your poetry may be, if your feeling is not natural – if the object and yourself are separate – then your poetry is not true poetry but merely your subjective counterfeit.

~ Matsuo Basho

Gas! Gas!

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.

~ Wilfred Owen

Saturday, July 08, 2017

At Sunset

All of the pain and passion
That trouble my life's long day
As the winds go down at sunset,
May suddenly pass away.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Friday, July 07, 2017

The Old Thorns

And there is nothing new under the sun:
Until the ancient race of Time be run,
The old thorns shall grow out of the old stem,
And morning shall be cold and twilight grey.

~ Christina Rossetti

In The Dew Of Little Things

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

~ Khalil Gibran

Thursday, July 06, 2017

When The Sun Sets

When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?

~ William Shakespeare

Glut Thy Sorrow On A Morning Rose

Glut thy sorrow on a morning rose.

~ John Keats

Wednesday, July 05, 2017

This World Needs Thinkers – Not Parrots

This world needs thinkers – not parrots.

~ Kenneth S. Keyes

Photo: Marilyn Monroe reading How To Develop Your Thinking Ability by Kenneth S. Keyes, at home in 1951.

The Hay Smelt Very Sweet

Red was her lip and bright her eye,
The hay smelt very sweet.

~ John Clare

Tuesday, July 04, 2017