Monday, 1 May 2017

The Epic Stars


The heroic stars spending themselves,
Cooling their very flesh into bullets for the lost battle,
They must burn out at length like used candles;
And Mother Night will weep in her triumph, taking home her heroes.
There is the stuff for an epic poem -
This magnificent raid on the heart of darkness, their lost battle -

Andromeda (Hubble)
We don't know enough, we'll never know.
Oh happy Homer, taking the stars and the Gods for granted.

Robinson Jeffers

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

Marcus Aurelius on Death


Death, like birth,

is one of Nature's secrets; 

the same elements that have been combined 

are then dispersed . . .  

. . . being endowed with mind 

it is no anomaly, 

nor in any way inconsistent 

with the plan of their creation. 




Monday, 20 March 2017

Poem for a Coffee Day



Tomorrow.

Coffee for a Poem Day.

Or Poem for a Coffee.

It's the same thing.

So, I just did one.

I drink coffee like a fish.

They don't.

I know.

And they don't glug.

Or slurp.

Or fiddle with spoons

Or cubes of sugar or

Wrappers.

Or broadsheets.

Fish are well-mannered.

Mostly.




My poem is now at zen my ass

It's called The Big Red Spot (and the Little Red Spot).

It's about the Hubble Telescope.

It's not about coffee.

As far as I know.



Julius Meinl serves coffee in little red cups.





Friday, 10 February 2017

A word from our sponsor


I have no beginning and no end, 

I have no inside and no outside, 

I am the beginning and the end, 

 

I am the universe. 


Victor Jara's last poem


Watch this on YouTube.