When I’m among Music and Kindly Books


When I’m among music that holds me late
Dawdling through dance delights
I dream of a firelit inglenook
With candles burning straight
A yellow blaze of lights
Of glowing stars and kindly books

With living pictures in the gloom
A woman’s heart turns back from stone
Liberated in that small cozy room
Heartbeats start again as imagination is seen and sewn

As if I’m alone in garden nights
With elm trees nodding at my thoughts
In my mind’s eye I see these sights
Like inkblots over crowded nightspots

©RedCat


I really should be going to bed. Instead I could not keep myself from writing. For weeks now comparative literature has kept me mired in lyric poetry. From Sapfo to the postmodernist, without having any time to write all that they inspire in me. So this prompt just lit a spark that refused to be ignored.

Poetics at dVerse tonight is called, Dead Poets Society. Our gracious host mentions a BBC Maestro poetry course, written by Carol Ann Duffy. Who she quotes: 

“dead poets speak to us across time through their poems,
and they particularly speak to other poets”,
adding “who often choose to respond across time”.

The task is to read three poems, choose one, and respond to it. My writing itch was tickled by – When I’m among a Blaze of Lights by Siegfried Sassoon 1886 (Matfield, Kent) – 1967 (Heytesbury, Wiltshire)


Sassoon photographed in 1915 by George Charles Beresford found on Wikipedia

Image credits:
Photo by Taylor Wright on Unsplash
Photo by Emil Widlund on Unsplash


Drowning Bibliophile


This is an unusual feeling for a bibliophile
Usually piles of them make me smile
But now it feels like I’m drowning in books
Astray in a quagmire, kept on tethering hooks

Discombobulated, bewildered and confused
Trying to expound and elucidate ancient literature
Learning to unravel the ineffable mystery
To fathom allegories and tropes of poetry

Oh, the surprises
awaiting those following the path of civilizations sunrises
Oh, the sorrow
when advised to disavow love like Trumbull’s sparrow
Oh, the disgust
when you feel words and language are nothing to trust
Oh, the fear
when you imagine raping Zeus or avenging Furies are near
Oh, the joy
to dream yourself on Lesbos or in Troy

Such is the power of thoughtfully chosen words and rhythmic rhymes
To be read and remembered for all of time

©RedCat


An attempt to capture the elation, confusion and disquiet of myself and several of my classmates embarking on the adventure of Comparative Literature.



Image credits:

Photo by Eugenio Mazzone on Unsplash
Photo by Vasily Ledovsky on Unsplash
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash


Also shared to tonight’s OpenLinkNight #345 at dVerse.


The Midsummer Queen


The midsummer Queen
Stands proud and strong
Ready to lead the night’s dance
Ready to give her revelers the chance
To realize where their heart belongs

The midsummer sky
Invitingly deep and softly blue
Companion through the unprecedented night
Companion lending souls its light
Teaching the love, every heart is due

The midsummer sky
Lends insight and opens the mind’s eye
Revealing that which was hidden
Revealing no true love is ever forbidden

The midsummer Queen
Pleased with her fey touched children seems
Happy they still come to her
Happy they by her magic are stirred
Vowing to let her guide them to their dreams

©RedCat


It’s that time of year, where magic seems possible, somewhere near. Making heart and soul buzz with creative energy. Making pens fly speedily over paper. Leaving stories in their wake. Demanding to be let out or keep one through the night awake.



Shared to and read live at the second installment of OLN #341 over at dVerse.


Image credits:

Image 1: Picture of my homemade Maypole. By ©RedCat
Image 2: Vivien Leigh as Titania from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, 1937. Photo by J W Debenham.
Image 3: Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing. From William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Blake. William Blake, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.


Glimpses of All Hallows Night 


On the last night
Of summer time
The stars are out in force
Shining bright

In the dark sky
Of all hallows
Restless souls watch
Another year passing by

In a house festooned
With ghosts and ghouls
The witch sheds blood
Offering thanks to the moon

On this liminal night
As the veil thins
The other realm nears
Bringing departed ones in sight

Hear what they say
Voices from the other side
Living in fear of death
You’ll regret not living fully one day

©RedCat


Image credits:

Image 1: Photo by Jake Weirick on Unsplash
Image 2: Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash

Tatters of Brown – Folktober Challenge Day 26


She’s hunting the corridors
In her once splendid gown
Now, just sad tatters of brown
Retracing her steps, as countless times before

Where once there were eyes
Is now pits of black sorrow
Knowing there will never be a bright tomorrow
The house echoes with her cries

She will never again hold her children close
Or see them thrive and grow
Never again see their smiles
Or guide them through life’s trials
Never again hear their laughter
Or have the joy to care and look after

A mother’s love never dies
Keeps her searching forevermore
Trapped here on the lonely moor
Even as the centuries flies

©RedCat


Another small contribution to Folktober Challenge over at The Wombwell Rainbow.
See all images and read other responses for today here.



Image credits:

Image 1: Claimed photograph of the ghost, taken by Captain Hubert C. Provand. First published in Country Life, 1936

Image 2: NWT Roydon Common by Richard Osbourne

Image 3: Dorothy Walpole by Charles Jervas, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Image 4: John Sell CotmanRaynham Hall, Norfolk, circa 1818



ps. I have become aware that in some browsers this blog is experiencing what is called the white screen of death. I’m working on figuring out how to fix it. ds.

Pain


A child cries heart-wrenchingly
With growing pains
A mother cries silently
Wishing
Heart filled with anguish
To take away and hinder all pain

Through experience knowing
Life contains heartache and pain
It’s even required for growing
All she can do
Is to help her children see it through
Emerge on the other side of fear and pain

In all life’s disappointments
Through all sorrows and pains
Be a supporting presence
Hold them with love and care

As long as there’s breath in her body
Always there

©RedCat


The other night I never got to fall asleep. Around midnight my youngest started to cry heart-wrenchingly because of growing pains. Aside from heating the wheat-heater, there was nothing I could do beside hold him and comfort him. He fell asleep again, fitfully. Waking every other hour to cry. Sometimes during the night, after crying myself because I felt torn in two wanting to do something and knowing I couldn’t, I wrote this poem.



Image credits:

First image: Photo by Marco Bianchetti on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Jordan Whitt on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by __ drz __ on Unsplash

March Morning Meditation

© RedCat

Morning dawns

Frost covering the lawns

Ten below zero

Radiating fairy glow

Cold and clear

No hint spring is near

Soon there’s a haze

Icy cold air rising

Lifted by the sun’s rays

Winter vaporising

Gentle touch on skin

Warmth starts to seep in

Giving cause

To slow down and pause

Halt the morning commute

Let deep breaths inner landscape transmute

Calms and quiets the angry anxious din

Roaring deep within

Giving peace and clarity of thought

Reducing the turmoil chaos wrought

Showing there’s no need to hesitate

Seek the benefits of taking a short moment to breathe and meditate

Changing the trajectory of morning and day

Allowing what the world throws at you to be handled in a more constructive conductive way

© RedCat


For the first time in ages I felt the drive to meditate. I’m grateful I did. Since it both started off my day in a better way, and sparked my creativity to write a short poem on my morning commute.



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