quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': January 2014
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2014_01_01_archive.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Saturday, January 11, 2014. By Angelina Weld Grimké. Quiet- the stars;. Snare of the shine of your teeth,. Your provocative laughter,. The gloom of your hair;. Lure of you, eye and lip;. Yearning, yearning,. Languor, surrender;. And madness, madness,. Tremulous, breathless, flaming,. The space of a sigh;. Then awakening- remembrance,. Pain, regret- your sobbing;. And again, quiet- the stars,. Brought to you by. Saturday, January 11, 2014. Labels: Angelina Weld Grimké.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': March 2014
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2014_03_01_archive.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Saturday, March 1, 2014. The night comes down, in ever-darkening shapes that seem-. To grope, with eerie fingers for the window- then-. To rest to sleep, enfolding me, as in a dream. Faith- might I awaken! And drips the rain with seeming sad, insistent beat. Shivering across the pane, drooping tear-wise,. And softly patters by, like little fearing feet. The feathery ash is fluttered; there upon the pane,-. The dying fire casts a flickering ghostly beam,-. W S Di Piero.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': June 2013
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2013_06_01_archive.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Sunday, June 30, 2013. There is nothing you won't do. She is standing by. Her hand is crying. Her hand is clutching. A sheaf of papers. She gives them up. Her eyes are animals. Each hank of her hair. Is a serpent's obedient. She will never recover. Remember. there is nothing. You will not bear. For this woman's sake. Brought to you by. Sunday, June 30, 2013. Monday, June 10, 2013. Variation on a Theme. By W S. Merwin. Thank you my life long afternoon. Brought to you by.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': December 2013
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2013_12_01_archive.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Saturday, December 28, 2013. Singing sad and beautiful. In scornful upright loneliness they stand,. Counting themselves no kin of anything. Whether of earth or sky. Their gnarled roots cling. Like wasted fingers of a clutching hand. In the grim rock. A silent spectral band. They watch the old sky, but hold no communing. With aught. Only, when some lone eagle's wing. Flaps past above their grey and desolate land,. Or when the wind pants up a rough-hewn glen,. Night was de...
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': July 2014
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Thursday, July 10, 2014. All things spare and strange. By Gerard Manley Hopkins. Glory be to God for dappled things—. For skies of cople-colour as a brindled cow;. For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;. Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;. Landsape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;. And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange;. Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how? W S Di Piero.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': February 2013
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2013_02_01_archive.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Friday, February 15, 2013. Sometimes with One I Love. Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for. Fear I effuse unreturn'd love,. But now I think there is no unreturn'd love, the pay. Is certain one way or another,. I loved a certain person ardently and my love was. Yet out of that I have written these songs.). Brought to you by. Friday, February 15, 2013. Saturday, February 9, 2013. Little cramped words scrawling all over the paper. Like draggled fly's legs,.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': Goodbye...
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2014/09/goodbye.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Tuesday, September 2, 2014. The summer ends, and it is time. To face another way. Our theme. Reversed, we harvest the last row. To store against the cold, undo. The garden that will be undone. We grieve under the weakened sun. To see all earth's green fountains dried,. And fallen all the works of light. You do not speak, and I regret. This downfall of the good we sought. As though the fault were mine. I bring. The plow to turn the shattering. Brought to you by.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': Belief
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2014/01/belief.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Saturday, January 4, 2014. In This Season of Waiting. Under certain conditions,. When the moon in the western sky. Seems frozen there, for instance. Even as the sun is rising in the east,. So that soon two sides of the coin. Will be facing each other;. Or when the snow. Which is a stranger here. Fills our trees with its cold flowers;. Bluejay at the feeder. It could be enameled there,. Then the earth becomes an emblem. For whatever we believe. Brought to you by.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': Twilight--and you...
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2014/01/twilight-and-you.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Saturday, January 11, 2014. By Angelina Weld Grimké. Quiet- the stars;. Snare of the shine of your teeth,. Your provocative laughter,. The gloom of your hair;. Lure of you, eye and lip;. Yearning, yearning,. Languor, surrender;. And madness, madness,. Tremulous, breathless, flaming,. The space of a sigh;. Then awakening- remembrance,. Pain, regret- your sobbing;. And again, quiet- the stars,. Brought to you by. Saturday, January 11, 2014. Labels: Angelina Weld Grimké.
quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.': November 2013
http://quoth-the-redhead.blogspot.com/2013_11_01_archive.html
Quoth the redhead, 'nivermoore.'. Saturday, November 23, 2013. By Janet Loxley Lewis. I have lived so long. On the cold hills alone . I loved the rock. And the lean pine trees,. Hated the life in the turfy meadow,. Hated the heavy, sensuous bees. I have lived so long. Under the high monotony of starry skies,. I am so cased about. With the clean wind and the cold nights,. People will not let me in. To their warm gardens. Brought to you by. Saturday, November 23, 2013. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
