Morning

[phareztamar]

MORNING


Euphony quips
Across a glen that’s fens of larks away
And bidding dew farewell
They fard a droopy tulip bell
With couplets of sunray and song

And I awake
A little late and under versed to tell
The dicta of their chickalogue
And slip of my spirit’s tongue, I laugh
As they yet the morning applaud

And I stir
Awash in a garrulous grassy damask
A tier ‘neath the vesper veil
In vernal attire, the agrarian choir
Rhymes pensile wicks away

And I arise
Embossed on a flitting chit of sand
O’er the ever gobbling glass gullet
Above? Not a chit, but a chink I think,
And the larks echolalia o’er, they soar

And I soar
Surplice in a psalm of the fruit of your lips
For thou scrivened the whorl entrails
And set it a whirl, that morn after morn,
Euphony quips across a glen

Written in 1982, in Pittsburg, California. Followed many visits to the duck pond at Los Medanos city college.

[Ferd]

hmmmmm

[Mrsnt]

Written by you?

[Abiding Now]

Sorry. Right after the "Roses are red, violets are blue" thingy, I lost interest in poetry.

[Ferd]

Originally Posted by Abiding Now

Sorry. Right after the "Roses are red, violets are blue" thingy, I lost interest in poetry.

lol. i was an english major and I still have a serious love of poetry.

I have books and books of poetry. I love to read them, deconstruct them and find utter pleasure in "seeing" the turn of a phrase by a master.

One of my all time favorite lines in the English language is

"you valley my mind in fabulous blue lucerns"

You have to know that a Lucern is a blue flower that grows (not surprisingly) in the Lucern region of France.

Seeing a valley of these would be akin to seeing (at a distance) the Texas Hill Country awash in Blue Bonnets.

Understaning the words, leads you to understand what the poet was saying. He was speaking of his wife, and thinking of her was like staning in a beautiful valley splashed with color.


But this offering.... well I need help.

[Abiding Now]

Originally Posted by Ferd

lol. i was an english major and I still have a serious love of poetry.

I have books and books of poetry. I love to read them, deconstruct them and find utter pleasure in "seeing" the turn of a phrase by a master.

One of my all time favorite lines in the English language is

"you valley my mind in fabulous blue lucerns"

You have to know that a Lucern is a blue flower that grows (not surprisingly) in the Lucern region of France.

Seeing a valley of these would be akin to seeing (at a distance) the Texas Hill Country awash in Blue Bonnets.

Understaning the words, leads you to understand what the poet was saying. He was speaking of his wife, and thinking of her was like staning in a beautiful valley splashed with color.


But this offering.... well I need help.

Back in the day (waaaaaay back when ) I really got into Edgar Allen Poe, probably why I'm depressed today.

[Ferd]

Originally Posted by Abiding Now

Back in the day (waaaaaay back when ) I really got into Edgar Allen Poe, probably why I'm depressed today.

LOL. Poe....


You should read some Richard Wilbur. lovely stuff.

[Abiding Now]

Originally Posted by Ferd

LOL. Poe....


You should read some Richard Wilbur. lovely stuff.

Annabelle Lee almost drove me over the brink. May try the Wilbur guy.

[Ferd]

Originally Posted by Abiding Now

Annabelle Lee almost drove me over the brink. May try the Wilbur guy.

Here. Start with this one..


October Maples, Portland
Richard Wilbur

The leaves, though little time they have to live,
Were never so unfallen as today,
And seem to yield us through a rustled sieve
The very light from which time fell away.

A showered fire we thought forever lost
Redeems the air. Where friends in passing meet,
They parley in the tongues of Pentecost.
Gold ranks of temples flank the dazzled street.

It is a light of maples, and will go;
But not before it washes eye and brain
With such a tincture, such a sanguine glow
As cannot fail to leave a lasting stain.

So Mary’s laundered mantle (in the tale
Which, like all pretty tales, may still be true),
Spread on the rosemary-bush, so drenched the pale
Slight blooms in its irradiated hue,

They could not choose but to return in blue.

[Ferd]

Maybe my favorite love poem.

The Beautiful Changes
Richard Wilbur

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides
The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.


The beautiful changes as a forest is changed
By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
On a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.


Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.