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

Thursday, April 8, 2010

In the Softer Sun

Another afternoon
Sun climbing into the sky over the mountain;
Reminders of summer on the mainland.
I can hear flies buzzing like sewing machines
against kitchen glass.
The wind through the gums recalls rushing water.
Simple wishes to sit and watch
water-hens at the dam,
ants toiling a dead fly,
Capture the light somehow as it falls against long
chopped wood that on cold nights
keeps the house warm.
Somewhere a cock crows,
it must be confused or else its overslept
and simply wishes to herald its own presence.
There is no room for impatience
the world can run its own way without us.
Here all that matters is to 
see the shadows change
while rasberries ripen
in the softer sun.

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