It has been a busy day, full of house cleaning, and errands involving banks and cleaners and libraries and such, followed by an early Chinese takeout meal (thanks for the idea, writerjenn!) so that my sweetheart could make it to his evening tai chi class on time. Given my overall achiness and the specific soreness of my right knee, I opted to stay home. And ( Read more... )

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I started the day with a few casual observations of the view out my front window, which is turning itself into a poem. I am starting to wind my day down now, after doctor's appointments, a trip to the wine store, and a nap. My little poem isn't quite finished yet, so I won't share it ( Read more... )

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James Stanier Clarke, the Prince Regent's librarian (mentioned in a post the other day) was not the only person to give Jane Austen unsolicited advice about what she ought to write. She got so fed up that for her own entertainment - and that of her closest friends and family members - she wrote up a document entitled "Plan of a Novel, according to ( Read more... )

It's Wednesday, which is a good day for something from Shakespeare (and a bit of a tradition around here, when I remember to get my act together). Speaking of acts, today's poetry is found in Act III, scene 2 of As You Like It. You can read my (somewhat irreverent) summary of the play if you'd like, but assuming that not all of you have the time or ( Read more... )

Yesterday's poem, "Death Be Not Proud", was from the thoughtful, more religious side of John Donne. Today, a more earthly love poem in rhymed couplets from Donne, who lived in the late 16th and early 17th century. About two hundred years after his birth, Dr. Samuel Johnson dubbed him a "Metaphysical Poet", part of (and in truth, founder of) a ( Read more... )

Yesterday's poem, "The Song of Wandering Aengus", about a love-god's quest to find the bewitching woman who had attracted his attention, made me think of Apollo, chasing Daphne, who turned into a tree. And all the mention of the long-dappled grass in the final stanza made me think of a garden, bringing us to today's (rather lengthy) selection. ( Read more... )

Yesterday's poem, "It is a Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free" was a form of sonnet by William Wordsworth. There was something about its feeling of calm - and its feeling of being somewhat alone, for all that the speaker in the poem addressed a young girl with whom he was walking - that reminded me of Robert Frost's poems "Mowing" and "The Tuft of ( Read more... )

This morning I could hear the tap-tap-tap-tap-tapping of a woodpecker in the neighborhood. It could be a downy woodpecker, a hairy woodpecker or a red-bellied woodpecker (all of which I've seen in my own yard), and I'm certain there are a few additional species in the area ( Read more... )