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About this blog

This is my very first attempt at a poetry blog. Basically, I will try to post a poem, either that I have written, or of someone famous who's work I enjoy. If it is my own, I may include some tidbits of the writing process or its inspiration, if it is someone else's I will comment on it. I hope you enjoy!

Entries in this blog

The Goblet of Life ~Longfellow

A sad, sweet poem which, I believe, Longfellow counted among his best.   Filled is Life's goblet to the brim; And though my eyes with tears are dim, I see its sparkling bubbles swim, And chant a melancholy hymn    With solemn voice and slow.  No purple flowers,--no garlands green, Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen, Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene, Like gleams of sunshine, flash between    Thick leaves of mistletoe.  This goblet, wrought with curious art, Is

The Courtroom~Original

After listening to a sermon on Zechariah 3:1-6 I had to write this poem.   In the courtrooms of the earth The judge is sweated high, With the court spread out before him: Witnesses of foul deeds Whose voice the ruler heeds; And the jury set before him.   In the place of least repute The man accused stands by: His accuser stands before him, Whose words are true: they are just, And heed them justice must: Plain is the law spread

The Graveyard~Original

I spent an hour on Saturday, wandering thorough a quiet country graveyard. It left me with this lingering feeling that wouldn't dissipate until I wrote it down. I still feel it, somewhat. I think this describes the feeling decently well. See for yourself:       “Behold, ye stranger passing by, As you are now, so once was I. As I am now you soon will be: Prepare for death and follow me.”   The sun shines gently on the phrase As if to soften harshe

Northern Lights ~ Original

In the sheer calm of midnight, Beneath a thousand stars And the red eye of Mars: Upward creeps a subtle light Like many wan fusing scars.   Silent frost-light of the North, A pale, peculiar green Ris’n in the dark, unseen: Hid from earthly eyes, seeps forth A strange and iridescent sheen.   High above the sleeping plain, Beneath the blazing host This eerie, gliding ghost; A sheet, like glimmering rain Delicately stro

The Beleagured City ~ Henry Longfellow

I have read, in some old, marvelous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That midnight host of specters pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague.   Beside the Moldau’s rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, There stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead.   White as sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, The river flowed between.   No other voice nor sound was ther
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