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.

27 February 2015

no landmark

early or late
this face

drifts on the river
the mist closes

in quietness 
a dark business

water weeds stand
like flotsam tangled

you are alone
the dark place is not safe

the way of the dead
cannot be tamed

the floating sun trails
still rust-coloured

fronds ripple a black pool
shadowy banks

the wild part used to be
alive an animal

the black spine
like question marks

this face
its sacrifice ...

whatever that means

An erasure poem remixed from an early draft of an old poem of mine, Without a Signpost, which never quite worked, interwoven with the first chapter of Jeanette Winterson's The Daylight Gate. It's an experiment; please tell me if it works for you (and also if it doesn't).

Submitted for The Tuesday Platform (24/2/15) at imaginary garden with real toads


  1. Such wonderfully vivid imagery in this poem, Rosemary. Steeped in mood. I especially love "the wild part used to be alive/ an animal/ the black spine/ like question marks". Wow!

  2. I like the way you set your poem out in short-lined couplets - it allows one to fully focus on each image. You show us that a certain kind of peace is attainable in the quiet places.

    1. Thanks, Kerry, for taking the trouble to read and comment.

  3. It allows a pause, allows each image to absorb - but I do like your way with words, and I think a more flowing, longer version would be what I would prefer. But, it is also nice to mix things up, as this does seem quite different than your usual.

    1. Thank you, Margaret. I'll consider the 'more flowing, longer version'.

  4. I like your erasure poem. They aren't real easy to write, I have only done one that I would post.
    Here you are reminding me of the border between Mexico and the U.S. It used to be a playful place for across the river neighbors to mingle with a little fun. Not everyone swam, at the Big Bend National Park there was a little rope ferry boat for pedestrians. I didn't take it but it was very popular for folks both ways.
    Now drugs, illegal immigrants that stay, international criminal gangs, terrorist fear, and our bumbling border guard force have ruined things that once were just plain nice and of no harm to anyone.
    I think that our Canada border has created about the same atmosphere to our north.

    1. Thanks, Jim, for sharing these thoughts. I feel this might not be the final version of this poem. It would be very interesting to bring into more focus the idea of borders!