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Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.-Edgar Allan Poe

Poetry is when emotion has found its thought and thought has found words--Robert Frost

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance--Carl Sandburg

I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry--John Cage

You will find poetry nowhere unless you bring some of it with you--Joseph Joubert

Poetry is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toe nails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the unknown world, that your bliss and suffering is forever shared and forever all your own. ~Dylan Thomas

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A Dream Song: For Nature


A Dream Song

(For Nature)


Stark black limbs segment

The blazing green eye

Into fractured shards

Of cool purple sky

In lucid wet dreams

Where meaning is dry,

Where sirens of silence

Moan out lusty songs,

Where violet and sticky

Blackberry prongs

Drip sweet, sweet music,

Juicy dark music,

Into syrupy air

Stirring apparitions

And images where

Slippery backed frogs

Ride moist red fern fronds,

And damp morning breezes

Wave thin cattail wands,

As swallows snip gnats

Over frowzy brown ponds,

Where terrors wake sleepers

From dreams dripping sweat

And fantastic scenes

They will all soon forget.


When inspiration is lacking, and it has been a dry, dry spell for a while, I always return to my old poems, old ideas, and old dreams. I do not specifically remember what poem I have stolen from for this short, extremely song-like verse, but it doesn't matter. The original was in unrhymed free verse (Yes, I used to write a lot of free verse.), and this one is not unrhymed. It has no regular meter except, perhaps accidentally from what was in my head.


I haven't written or published anything in quite a while, and this seems to be affecting my readership. Only three readers looked at my previous offering. If you are not liking what I am writing, please let me know. Perhaps, your instigation might inspire me.


Today's picture was taken at Alley Spring Mill a few weeks ago when Kellie, Sarah, and I went on a hike at Greer Spring then drove on to Eminence to eat and found the restaurant where we wanted to eat was closed. Still, we looked around and showed Sarah a few sites she had not seen. The area is really pretty neat. ENJOY!

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I find that I cannot exist without Poetry--without eternal poetry--half the day will not do--the whole of it--I began with a little, but habit has made me a Leviathan.-John Keats

We do not quite say that the new is more valuable because it fits in; but its fitting in is a test of its value.-T. S. Eliot

A man may praise and praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases.-George Gordon, Lord Byron

The great beauty of poetry is that it makes everything in every place interesting.-John Keats

Our faulty elder poets sacrificed the passion and passionate flow of poetry to the subtleties of intellect and to the stars of wit; the moderns to the glare and glitter of a perpetual, yet broken and heterogeneous imagery, or rather to an amphibious something, made up, half of image, and half of abstract meaning. The one sacrificed the heart to the head; the other both heart and head to point and drapery.-S. T. Coleridge

The purpose of rhythm, it has always seemed to me, is to prolong the moment of contemplation, the moment when we are both asleep and awake, which is the one moment of creation.-W. B. Yeats

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