Monthly Archives: October 2017

CCXIII 

Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

AIR

A Song of Taliessin

 

While walking out under the greenwood fair

A maiden I chanced to meet

Who softly whistled a country air,

And the melody was sweet:

As sweet as the blossoms she twined in her hair

Or the grass ‘neath her dancing feet;

She softly whistled a country air

And the melody was sweet.

 

I hid me back of the cedarn bough,

The better that tune to hear:

It smoothed the furrows from off the brow

And filled the heart with cheer.

Like the lonely seaman who peers from the prow

With his home port drawing near,

It smoothed the furrows from off the brow

And filled the heart with cheer.

 

Never again did I see the maid;

The tune I cannot recall.

But every melody that’s played

And pleases me at all

Sends me back to that greenwood fair

And seems to echo the beat

Of a softly whistled country air

Whose melody was sweet;

The melody was sweet.

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!

Donald T. Williams, PhD

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CXXII

Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

NOVEMBER

Underfoot, the leaves are damp and cold

Which yesterday were dancing with the breeze

In flashing pirouettes of red and gold

Set loose from still abundant canopies.

But now the bare-boned outlines of the trees

Are etched in black across a slate-gray sky.

The wind feels like a prelude to a freeze;

It may bring sleet when next it passes by.

It’s not the first time leaves have had to die:

The wind has sung their funeral dirge before,

But now it seems like every year that cry

Comes sooner and we seem to feel it more;

For every cycle has a single thrust:

What’s born of earth must soon return to dust.

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!

Donald T. Williams, PhD

CCXI

Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

Dr. Samuel Johnson, trying to read a Little Magazine

THE POETRY IN LITTLE MAGAZINES

(On the Limits of Imagism and Free Verse)

It struggles haphazardly across the page

In images unconnected by sound or sense.

At intervals, a gleam of freshness glints,

An accuracy of sight which could engage—

But it connects with nothing, does not lead

To anything which can be understood.

The Types—the True, the Beautiful, the Good—

Live not in the bare image; it must breed

With Mind until a Vision is engendered:

A Mediator, not a verbal trick,

To bridge the distance to the Ding an sich,

For only so can sanity be rendered—

When such a Child is born alive and quick.

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!

Donald T. Williams, PhD

CCX

 Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

ACCURACY

It is not blue, no matter what they say.

The basic livery, though trimmed in white,

Is equal parts of brown and green and gray.

You might believe it of a winter’s day,

But even in the warmest summer light,

It is not blue, no matter what they say.

Shades of blue?  The Mediterranean may;

The cold Atlantic offers us a sight

Of equal parts of brown and green and gray.

A hunting pelican plunges in the spray;

The seagull soars and calls out in his flight,

“It is not blue, not matter what they say.”

Near the breakers laughing children play,

Erecting castles walled against the might

Of equal parts of brown and green and gray.

The Poet too pursues it his own way—

To see and think and try to get it right:

It is not blue, no matter what they say,

But equal parts of brown and green and gray.

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!

Donald T. Williams, PhD

CCIX

Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

Christ Church, St. Simons, Ga.

THOUGHTS FROM ST. SIMONS

The peace of Christchurch, the old oak

Beneath whose branches Wesley spoke;

The Spanish Moss, like wisps of smoke.

Here once flew the Union Jack;

The Redcoats kept the Spaniard back.

Now glass protects the artifact.

Beneath the sun, Frederica Town:

The tabby walls have all come down—

Foundations gaping in the ground.

“Foundations gaping in the ground . . .”

The walls are tall, without a breach

In children’s castles on the beach,

But all within the high tide’s reach.

The sound of surf, the seagull’s cry,

The crab that passes sideways by,

And endless question asking why.

The tracks that grass makes in the sand,

A seashell nestled in the hand,

The endless quest to understand.

The circling sea, gray-green in hue,

White sails against a sky of blue;

The Good, the Beautiful, the True.

“The Spanish Moss, like wisps of smoke . . .”

Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.  And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!

Donald T. Williams, PhD