I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

30 June 2016

30 Days of Delight

To my companions at Project 366

Every morning
I bring my coffee
and come to the feast,
where I linger.

I meet beauty – my reason
for this whole lifelong
engagement with poetry,
and passion for visual art.

I find quirkiness, laughter,
deep thought
and deeper feelings –
great nourishment.

Oh, I like
poems to get my teeth into,
to devour in gulps, or to savour;
tasty, piquant images,
and others that slake thirst.

So I’m sorry to leave you, and
like Penelope (who just said goodbye)
after 30 days of making poems,
I notice I’m tired. It’s surprising.

‘Writing begets writing’
I said at the outset.
And so it has been. A pouring.
More than one a day.

A delight. A fervour.
(Not taking anything out
of my life – oh, except housework
and exercise. Adding this in.)

I realise now, it must have taken
invisible reserves of energy.
Would persistence have increased
fatigue or stamina? I won’t know.

‘It is never any use
dwelling on goodbyes,’
a wise person, whose name
I’m too lazy to look up now, said.

‘It is not the being together
it prolongs. It is the parting.’ Yes.
The time has come to say goodbye.
And so, my sweets, let us part.

I’ll never grow too old to dream;
still your art will live in my heart.
(Now that I’ve got you all weepy –
don’t panic, I’ll be lurking and reading.)


My final poem as a guest blogger this past month at Project 366

2 comments:

  1. It sounds like a wonderful month, Rosemary. And yes, we do get tired. But you can continue reading and writing at your own pace, now and will soon mend.

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