My two favourite poets are William Butler Yeats and Dylan Marlais Thomas. I have been to each of their graves to pay my respects and toured the house where D.T. was born, also the shed [more…]
Grumpy Angler. Molesworth hey?; seventeen years in The Parachute Regiment might gainsay that conclusion and I left early, which was my decision. Mancunius. I did hear something about those Scottish Scamps and the transmogrifications which [more…]
This is the first in a series alternating with my musings; reflecting my enduring love of poetry and what it can bring us. I will jump about a bit as I recall poems I have [more…]
Waiting for MOT (passed) I was browsing my volume of the Dylan Thomas Notebook Poems 1930-1934. I came across this piece which I had never seen before. I admit it shook me; in 1934 he [more…]
My poor old mind biggles at the knee deep stupidity which engulfs us : ‘I named my daughter Crumpets and now she’s being relentlessly bullied.’ Doh. Perhaps she should have called her Pikelets? Thank you [more…]
A la recherche du temps perdu (Proust) Moving On If only I might wander through the coming days and be with you, If I could be there at your side If I could calm the [more…]
A la recherce du temps perdu (Proust) My woman When I hold her, hold my woman Hold her tight against my bosom Cries she like a little spirit Spirit of the hills and forest. [more…]
A la recherche du temps perdu (Proust) Together again Lightly falling, sunlight drawing Motes that dance and hue the air Shafts of colour, space and lightness, Draw me to you point the stair. Ah your [more…]
A la recherche du temps perdu (Proust) There was a time There was a time now long away, when I had peace, a quiet mind, my days were slow, my heartbeat too, those days before [more…]
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