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A Poem for a Thursday #64
Photo by Dustin Scarpitti on Unsplash Philip Booth was an American poet who lived from 1925 to 2007. His poetry “written in spare language and dealing with New England settings, has garnered critical acclaim for its quiet power.” I read this poem and couldn’t get it out of my head. It is beautiful and somehow comforting. Lie back daughter, let your head be tipped back in the cup of my hand. Gently, and I will hold you. Spread your arms wide, lie out on the stream and look high at the gulls. A dead- man’s float is face down. You will dive and swim soon enough where this tidewater ebbs to the sea.…
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Golden Moments #12
I haven’t written one of these posts since last May. I suppose that says something about the past year. However, I am making an effort to concentrate on the positive so let’s give this a try. I am reading Little Women for the five millionth time. It is possible that number is accurate. I read it over and over and over when I was a kid and I still read it regularly. It is like sinking into a warm bath or climbing into a freshly made bed. So comforting. I know exactly what is going to happen and exactly what everyone is going to say and I wouldn’t have it…
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A Poem for a Thursday #63
Photo by Jennifer Arrington on Unsplash William Henry Davies was a Welsh poet who lived from 1871-1940. When he was 22 he received an inheritance and used it to purchase a boat ticket to New York. He then spent the next six years traveling across the United States and Canada until he was injured while train hopping. He had to have one leg amputated below the knee. He then settled in London and spent his time writing poetry. That simple description of his life contains a novel in itself. I have so many questions about him now. I am featuring this poem because I think we all should take a little time to…
