Monday, 10 October 2011

The Taxi by Amy Lowell

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edge of the night?

September in Huntly by Lauris Edmond

From the hill road you see spring weather
firing the tow, sun running with the river,
dancing on glass as cars wink in the street, 
falling on windows and water
in the late afternoon shower of stars.

Away to the north are the mines
lit by lamps, slow-burning butt-ends
of the dark; the middle shift thinks now
of tea at four, cards, quiet booze, shoves
at the door, coughs in the mucky dust.

The light blooms and dies, jade green
burning the sky like a flare, all over town
smoke rises, tired men enter as it ends
the glowing day, hump home remnants 
of their temper, feel the cold.

In the kitchens women are stoking stoves,
grumbling at the soot in the chimney,
the easterly's choking smoke; children
crowd squabbling round fires that no one really
remembers the miners' long labour lit.

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

Thoughts by Jean Woo

Softly, softly falls the dew
Let it fall, let it fall;
Softly, softly calls a voice
Let it call, let it call.
A violet mist will clothe the hills
And lavender the sky
Fowers open fragrant frills
And still a tear I cry.
Slowly, slowly flow the tears
Let them flow, let them flow;
Slowly, slowly fades the love
Let it go, let it go.

When by Robert Zend

Death doesn't
end life
death just
interrupts it
a book mark between page 256 and 257
a dental appointment at Friday at two
guests tonight
a movie tomorrow evening
a discussion that didn't end
coffee percolating on the stove
six shirts at the laundry
a holiday in Mexico this winter
this is what things are like
when a period is placed
in the middle of a sentence.

Sunday, 2 October 2011

Courage by Nicole M.

The courage that you have-
Don't throw it away-
Save it for another time-
Another day-
The fires all around you-
Burn big and bright-
But the fire deep inside you-
Burns strong and light. 

The New House by Edward Thomas

Now first, as I shut the door,
     I was alone
In the new house ; and the wind
     Began to moan.
Old at once was the house,
     And I was old ;
My ears were teased with the dread
     Of what was foretold,
Nights of storm, days of mist, without end ;
     Sad days when the sun
Shone in vain : old griefs and griefs
     Not yet begun.
All was foretold me ; naught
     Could I foresee ;
But I learned how the wind would sound
     After these things should be.