Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905-2004) Do not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow.I am the diamond glint on snow.I am the sunlight on ripened grain.I am the gentle autumn rain. When you wake in the morning hush,I am the swift, uplifting rushOf quiet birds in circling flight.I am the soft starlight at night. Do not stand at my grave and weep.I am not...
We walked by the seaand caught a bee
I eat a peachby the beach
Georgina (7 years old) Gorleston
16 November 2011
Robinson Jeffers I chose the bed downstairs by the sea-window for a good death-bedWhen we built the house, it is ready waiting,Unused unless by some guest in a twelvemonth, who hardly suspectsIts latter purpose. I often regard it,With neither dislike nor desire; rather with both, so equalledThat they kill each other and a crystalline interestRemains alone. We are safe to finish what we have to...
Joe Sharp Summertime has been the blossom overAutumn chill has seen off meadow cloverA circling flock of starlings I can seeCome roosting on the rowan berry treeI do so yearn for days of early spring I contemplate the cold October skyA starlit night with frost descendingI shiver at the moon so bright on highWhile deep within a sigh ascendingI do so yearn for days of early spring Considering the...
Edna St. Vincent Millay The room is full of you! — As I came inAnd closed the door behind me, all at onceA something in the air, intangible,Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick! — Sharp, unfamiliar odors have destroyedEach other room’s dear personality.The heavy scent of damp, funereal flowers, —The very essence, hush-distilled, of Death —Has strangled that...
Joe Sharp On the bridge of AvignonAll are dancing, all are dancingOn the bridge of AvignonAll are dancing round and roundYoung men they are dancingThey carry on romancing On the bridge of AvignonAll are dancing, all are dancingOn the bridge of AvignonAll are dancing round and roundFair ladies they are dancingThe young men are advancing On the bridge of AvignonAll are dancing, all are dancingOn...
Katherine Mansfield (1888 – 1923) Outside the sky is light with stars;There’s a hollow roaring from the sea.And, alas! for the little almond flowers,The wind is shaking the almond tree. How little I thought, a year ago,In the horrible cottage upon the LeeThat he and I should be sitting soAnd sipping a cup of camomiletea. Light as feathers the witches fly,The horn of the moon is plain...
Joe Sharp A patient man is a priceless pearlA proper prince among paupersSlow to ponder time to dwellA fragrant meadow for green grasshoppers A happy man is a fertile furrowA hayfield buzzing in Mother Nature’s holdA bunny rabbit beside the warren’s burrowSifting sand to find the pot of gold A gentle man is a God sent medallionAn imaginary halo around his humble headA mother’s pet, a maiden’s...
Thomas Hardy (1840 – 1928) (A Reminiscence, 1893) She wore a ‘terra-cotta’ dress, And we stayed, because of the pelting storm, Within the hansom’s dry recess, Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless We sat on, snug and warm. Then the downpour ceased, to my sharp sad pain,And the glass that had screened our forms beforeFlew up, and out she sprang to her door:I should have...
Christopher Logue (b 1926)
Last night in London AirportI saw a wooden binlabelled UNWANTED LITERATUREIS TO BE PLACED HEREINSo I wrote a poemand popped it in.