Welcome to Shards of Silver

Marianne Moore once defined 'poetry' as "Imaginary gardens with real toads in them". I found this such a striking definition of something that captures the values of poetry that I couldn't leave it alone.

I've been writing - attempting - poetry since I knew how to hold a pen(cil). Some poems I write I like, most I don't, but every now and then I feel compelled to write them down, like a flush of emotion that demands access to some sort of visible medium that can later be accessed and reconsidered. I thought, maybe, that sharing these poems could help me out a little. I welcome critiques, critical and constructive (though I do, of course reserve the right to ignore the sharper sides of people's tongues ;) ), and hope that in return for your help I can leave you with something better than sorry attempts at a craft which only a tiny few have ever really mastered.

Clear Skies~V

Friday, November 13, 2009


Vulture standing broken amidst the oaken grove,
Shoulder sighed in deepest regret and fallen tears shed,
Warriors collapsed like children's toys in their last breath,
Twigs snapped in the moaning wind dreaming of life,
Hollow the drums that no longer echo in mourning,
The battle over.
I cannot say you've won.

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