Carol,
<<After all, more times than not our inspirations are born out of despair rather than joy. A sad commentary on human life.>>
I believe it was Robert Frost that said "a poem starts as a lump in the throat of the poet". I thought you might appreciate this in light of your posting of "The Road Not Taken" which is also one of my favorites.
I was delightfully surprised to discover this thread. Amazing that I can cater to two, such seemingly different, passions here. I have not read all postings since inception but have not noticed any reference to one of my favorite poets, Edna St. Vincent Millay. I thought I would venture to ask for some help. I think I have every poem published of hers and yet I cannot seem to find the one containing the following passage:
Here, such a passion is
it stretched me apart.
Lord do I fear
Thous't made the world too beautiful
this year.
Anyone with the title to the poem containing this line?
For a contribution from my own poems I chose the following,
A Day on Cachuma
When I heard the hawk cry
there faintly stirred the question why,
but not in me, for I see through his eyes
and take the day and all it's promises.
So I, content, drifting lazily,
And he perhaps more industriously,
our direction born of the breeze from the lee,
but not that I care, simply pleased to be.
The boat responds to the water's kiss
for a moment a thought of what I'll miss
but thankfully fleeting a thought it is,
and I put aside my world.
I and the hawk and the leeward breeze.
We are companions, with no one to please
except ourselves and the purposeful ease
in which we seek our pleasure.
Thank you for a delightful thread.
Best,
Stitch |
