Tag: Poet

‘The Poet X’ — Book Review

William Blake [1757-1827] — Marina Kanavaki (Reblog)

Blake portrait by Thomas Phillips English poet, painter, and printmaker William Blake was born, November 28, 1757 at 28 Broad Street (now Broadwick St.) in Soho, London ❦ Largely unrecognised during his lifetime, Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of the poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age. What he […]

William Blake [1757-1827] — Marina Kanavaki

Of Poetry and Fire (Analysis #1: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot). — Lucy’s Works (Reblog)

“And in short, I was afraid.” T.S. Eliot reveals it all here. We can go home now.

Of Poetry and Fire (Analysis #1: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot). — Lucy’s Works

Grammar of Happiness — writing in north norfolk (Reblog)

I remember you remember me remember when I lost my mind I remember it well making music making bread making money making my way downtown and then what and then the sun rave song and then we danced and then he kissed me poet for our times poet for hire poet for love poet wife […]

Grammar of Happiness — writing in north norfolk

Tanka: Marlowe’s End

photo of black ceramic male profile statue under grey sky during daytime
Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

Officially dead
A strange mysterious end
Debts paid in Deptford
Your legacy is besmirched
Talents ever apparent

*427 years ago today the poet, dramatist and suspected intelligencer or spy, Christopher Marlowe, officially died in Deptford, east London.

copyright Francis Barker 2020

Poem ‘Flux’

The window is
ajar,

just enough to
let in some air, to

tantalise the cat
hooked by

night’s soft invitation.
Something outside

is burning, hangs
in the yielding light, though

I’ve never
seen those crimson clouds

phase
to dusky pink

and then to grey.
It’s a flux which

eludes me
every time.

Magic, you might say,
like being in space,

and now

© copyright David F. Barker 2012

Poem ‘I could live with it’

A screenshot of the free game, 0 A.D..
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I could live with it,

I mean an endless sun,
sipping cool pina coladas
in bottlegreen shade,
watching boats and glimmers
on the steady seas,
smiling abroad in January
like it was wilting June

Yes, right now I could go for that,
especially in this reluctant spring,
where complaints about drought
are already here.
Hosepipe bans hit headlines
while I watch daffodils being battered
and bowed by sheets of savage rain.
And I’m pestered
by cats attacking bare feet;
like me, they’re already tired
of watching drops clatter on sills.
Unlike me, they resort
to playing hide and seek,
upstairs and then down—
flying all around.
I’m sure they think it’s me
with the weather remote
and today I wish it was

poem © copyright df barker 2012