vast blue. brilliant orange.
where does a sunset begin?
only where day ends.
(to see this haiku with the accompanying photo visit: page)
without seeing, calm
hiding in the trees, cold mist
feel it there, crisp quiet
(to see this haiku with the accompanying photo visit: page)
Faustina , Georgia, USA
Friday 30 June 2006
Tuesday 27 June 2006
Morning Fog by Bondbloke
A thick cunning fog slinks in from the sea,
Lending the morning a ghostly chill, and,
An uncanny mixture of tranquillity and dread.
Terrifying in its silence and gentleness,
Like the harbinger of some impending catastrophe.
The tea-tray flat sea, a mirror no more,
The curious, creamy, smooth water covered
By a nebulous shroud of bleached opaqueness.
Blurring the outlines of all it encounters,
Deadening, distorting the disembodied sounds.
Beyond the shore we hear the putt, putt, putt,
Of a boat's engine as, tentatively, warily,
It gropes its way through nature's curtain,
Following the mournful wail of the fog-horn,
Trying to attain once more the safety of the harbour.
Bondbloke, Leith, Scotland
Lending the morning a ghostly chill, and,
An uncanny mixture of tranquillity and dread.
Terrifying in its silence and gentleness,
Like the harbinger of some impending catastrophe.
The tea-tray flat sea, a mirror no more,
The curious, creamy, smooth water covered
By a nebulous shroud of bleached opaqueness.
Blurring the outlines of all it encounters,
Deadening, distorting the disembodied sounds.
Beyond the shore we hear the putt, putt, putt,
Of a boat's engine as, tentatively, warily,
It gropes its way through nature's curtain,
Following the mournful wail of the fog-horn,
Trying to attain once more the safety of the harbour.
Bondbloke, Leith, Scotland
Sunday 25 June 2006
Whitby Jet by Sally Evans
Black stone soft to carve
beads, ornament, brooches.
Stone, fine and intricate,
to wear, to revel in,
and slowly break.
Below gull torn skies
in the fishing town,
by Staithes, under quayside sails,
the sharp glitter, a dark rainbow
in booths.
Night flowering, a perennial glow
of east coast darkness, the poet-monk
Caedmon's fire.
Sally Evans, Callander, Scotland
beads, ornament, brooches.
Stone, fine and intricate,
to wear, to revel in,
and slowly break.
Below gull torn skies
in the fishing town,
by Staithes, under quayside sails,
the sharp glitter, a dark rainbow
in booths.
Night flowering, a perennial glow
of east coast darkness, the poet-monk
Caedmon's fire.
Sally Evans, Callander, Scotland
Tuesday 20 June 2006
Reviews of Bolts of Silk
You can read reviews of Bolts of Silk by following these links:
Review in One Night Stanzas
Review on Poet a Day Blog
Review in Literary mag
Review in One Night Stanzas
Review on Poet a Day Blog
Review in Literary mag
Monday 19 June 2006
Welcome to Bolts of Silk!
The title, Bolts of Silk comes from Dark Matter, a vivid poem by the wonderfully talented Rebecca Elson, who died tragically young. Unfortunately copyright permission is beyond the budget I have for this project, but I would definitely recommend looking out for A Responsibility to Awe, the collection that contains this poem.
Another inspiration for the title is the fact that bolts of silk were traditionally given as prizes in Japanese poetry competitions.
I hope this blog will feature poetry from across the world, poetry that has something to say and says it beautifully. Beyond that it is of course, down to my personal taste!
Biographical details where available will be included in the comments section underneath each poem. Aditionally, contributors will have one link to a blog or website (if they have one) in the side panel as well as in the post that contains their poem. If you like what you see of their work here, please visit their online homes to read more!
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