Ruin

Ruin

The Swimmer

The Swimmer

Image Credit: Freeimages.com

 

he cuts the water with imperfect form.

not text book, arms overreach on entry.

without fin or scale he seems

designed to live in water, kick

stroke

kick

stroke

kick

coming up for air every sixth stroke,

chlorinated water hardly moving.

around the pool, his feat ignored;

the crowd preferring to immerse

themselves in Kardashian dreams.

 

maybe one day he will grow wings and

fly, then they will sit up and take notice.

 

© Davy D 2017

Imagine

Imagine

Poetic Motivations:67

Poetic Motivations-67 (1)

Spirits of the Dead

Poetic Beats

Welcome to this week’s edition of Poetic Beats with Howard Bond and Davy D, recorded on the 30th of October 2017 on Red Kite Radio.

On the eve of Halloween, we read and discussed the poem, Spirits of the Dead, by Edgar Allen Poe, as well as delving into the origins of the festival. You will be surprised to hear what Halloween may bring you if you live in Ireland.

If you are having difficulty accessing the recording, a text version of the poem is provided after the sound bar.

To hear this programme, please press the arrow on the left of the sound bar below.

 

Spirits of the Dead

I
Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

II
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee—and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.

III
The night, tho’ clear, shall frown—
And the stars shall look not down
From their high thrones in the heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given—
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.

IV
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drop from the grass.

V
The breeze—the breath of God—is still—
And the mist upon the hill,
Shadowy—shadowy—yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token—
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

Edgar Allan Poe

 

Wounded

Wounded

Scrabbled

Scrabbled

Happy Halloween

happy-halloween

Poetic Motivations:66

Poetic Motivations-66

Two Fishermen at Ponny

Poetic Beats

Welcome to this week’s edition of Poetic Beats with Howard Bond and Davy D, recorded on the 23rd October 2017 on Red Kite Radio.

Continuing with the theme of Autumn, Davy D reads his sonnet Two Fishermen at Ponny. Ponny is the local name given to the fishing water in the village of Haddenham, Buckinghamshire. He also gives a potted history of the sonnet form and reveals a little-known secret about actor Richard Burton.

If you are having difficulty accessing the recording, a text version of the poem is provided after the sound bar.

To hear this programme, please press the arrow on the left of the sound bar below.

 

Two Fishermen at Ponny

Autumn kissed Ponny with cool puckered lips.

October clouds raced in a darkened sky,

Holding the Red Kite between fingertips,

As fishermen gazed at quivering flies.

Camouflaged beside bowed Bulrush and tree,

Both angler’s stillness, a picture of peace.

Disguised so the Carp are unable to see

The barbs which could bring an end to their lease.

For half an hour they captured my thought,

Engaged in their game of angling chess,

Time out with nature which cannot be bought,

How it would end was anyone’s guess?

                             I never witnessed a winner this time,

                            Life pulled me back over the Chiltern Line.