Quote of the Day
an admirable concern to keep lines open to writing in Ireland, Scotland, Wales and America.
Seamus Heaney
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Poem of the Day
That song that goes
For no reason I can name
Taken from 'New Poetries V'...I look away from the book and see the moon deepen into golds and reds. Eastern sky a sodden blue. Spring dusk is something to breathe deeply – wet dirt, stubble, last year’s leaves. And like a dream that comes back only when unasked for, I recall his hands from when I was a child – rough wood, tobacco, metal of earth. A friend tells me of early grey mornings at his kitchen table. There was tea, the beginnings of a wood-fire, his wife, bread. And the winter river bed, the long, slow ache I carry inside, briefly fills with the singing of spring melt. Memory is that song the heart hums along with. The one without thinking, beneath breath. |
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