[JustAmy]

Settling
by Denise Levertov

I was welcomed here—clear gold
of late summer, of opening autumn,
the dawn eagle sunning himself on the highest tree,
the mountain revealing herself unclouded, her snow
tinted apricot as she looked west,
Tolerant, in her steadfastness, of the restless sun
forever rising and setting.
Now I am given
a taste of the grey foretold by all and sundry,
a grey both heavy and chill. I've boasted I would not
care,
I'm London-born. And I won't. I'll dig in,
into my days, having come here to live, not to visit.
Grey is the price
of neighboring with eagles, of knowing
a mountain's vast presence, seen or unseen.

[JustAmy]

Block City
by Robert Louis Stevenson

What are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.

Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
There I'll establish a city for me:
A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
And a harbor as well where my vessels may ride.

Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
A sort of a tower on top of it all,
And steps coming down in an orderly way
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.

This one is sailing and that one is moored:
Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings
Coming and going with presents and things!

[Mama_Bear]

A Thing of Beauty is a Joy for Ever

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darken'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits... John Keats

[Victoria Delsoul]

The Tower

What shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?
Never had I more
Excited, passionate, fantastical
Imagination, nor an ear and eye
That more expected the impossible -
No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,
Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back
And had the livelong summer day to spend.
It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,
Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend
Until imagination, ear and eye,
Can be content with argument and deal
In abstract things; or be derided by
A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

-- W.B.Yeats

[MeekOneGOP]

Mornin', everybody ! Happy Wednesday !!

Have a cup while you FReep !

[MeekOneGOP]

Bu-bye Gray Davis ! Don't the door hit you in the arse on the way out !! ...

[The Mayor]

[Calpernia]

Good morning to Potpourri!

[Billie]

Good morning, FRiend Amy, and P & P Patrons. I missed getting here yesterday and wanted to be sure to be here today to read all the lovely poems and posts. For kicks, I went to an 'old' poetry thread and must say that even though the purple background and a couple of the opening graphics are the same, you've improved on the design and layout so much - it's much prettier now than in the beginning! Kudos to you all for making it better than ever.

Am reposting an autumn graphic I posted before, just because I think it's so pretty.

(And I pinged Flyer to it this time. :))