RSS

Category Archives: poetry

Curtain, Garden and A Poem

Having finished the curtain for the back door, I had reason to go to my box of bits to make something else and re-discovered a piece of the Laura Ashley fabric I showed you the other day. There was enough to make a curtain so I have made another one for the back door in a fabric we love more.

This was the view from the dining room window as I was sewing this afternoon.

If you have seen the film, Hamnet, you may have wept over the twins. Having twins myself, when I read the novel by Maggie O’Farrell, I found the chapter heartbreaking. One of our twins was very ill as a tiny baby and when we visited him in hospital every day, I always put his twin sister in the cot beside him. I love this poem by Helen Farish.

 
 

Tags: , ,

Sunshine, Armandii and A Poem

Today we woke to rain but in no time the sun had come out and it was warm so we were able to get into the garden.

Steps up tp the garden lined with Tête à Tête

The Armandii, planted last year, is flowering well..

I love the programme The Verb on BBC radio 4 on Sunday afternoons.  Today Ian McMillan was talking to Katie Clarke, Director of Literature at The Reader organisation, about reading poetry with people who have dementia  and the magic that can happen just as it does when my choir sings in care homes. One of the poems she described as touching a patient was a poem I had never heard before. I hope you enjoy it as I did.

Happiness
by Raymond Carver,

So early it’s still almost dark out.
I’m near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren’t saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other’s arm.
It’s early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn’t enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

https://allpoetry.com/poem/8520185-Happiness-by-Raymond-Carver

Do go to BBC Sounds and listen to the programme. It was really moving.

 

Tags: , ,

Buttercup, Tête à Tête and A Poem

Despite even more rain, there was a brave buttercup in the garden and the tête à tête in the front garden have suddenly brightened up.

Many years ago when her children were still little, mine rather more grown, my kid sister sent me the poem about not spending time dusting when life offers so many more opportunities especially when one’s children are young. I’ve always loved it but had forgotten about it until a dear friend at Roots reminded me of it.  Thank you P.

Dust if You Must by Rose Milligan written in 1998.

Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.

I wondered if I had posted the poem before in the almost 15 years I have been writing this blog and so put the word ‘dust’ into my search bar.  It was such a delight to read back over so many posts that I had forgotten.

 

Curtain, New Jigsaw and A Poem

I’ve made the curtain for the back door today to hang on the new rail put up last week.

We have a new jigsaw, a present from my lovely Mr S’s brother at Christmas. It is a street map of the part of London where they grew up. We’re not sure if it’s going to be very hard as so many pieces look alike or easy because the road names are all so familiar. I’ll let you know.

I love this poem by Simon Armitage, so few words that tell the whole story. It is taken from his collection, ‘Dwell’ inspired by The Lost Gardens of Heligan.

 
 

Tags: ,

Flowers, Cathedral and A Special Poem

In Truro today, it was lovely to see the planters full of primulas in purple, white and green – and a bit of pink.

I’ve been given permission to share a poem with you. It is one of a booklet of remarkable writing produced by a very talented grandchild of one of my choir friends.

 

Mist, Reflections and A Poem

Driving from Truro to Penryn this morning, the mist was sitting in the valleys.

I love reflections of boats in the river..

I am the Song by Charles Causley is a long time favourite.

 

 

 

Tags:

Good Read, Amaryllis and A Tote Bag

I finished the latest book from the ShelterBox Book Club just in time to see the wonderful Q&A with the author Melissa Lucashenko. What a novel that was – two timelines set in Australia, in 1854 and in 2024, that meet each other towards the end of the novel. The whole story is beautifully crafted and draws the reader in despite much Aboriginal language the meaning of which one just picks up from the context. I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

I was given an Amaryllis bulb in a beautiful pot for my birthday and it has grown several inches already. I’m looking forward to seeing its glorious bloom.

Thank you, Sue

Post arrived from family in Atlanta today, a delightful little tote bag with the name of the bookshop, Books Are Magic, and the best answer to a question. I absolutely love it.

The tote comes from an independent bookstore in Brooklyn called Books are Magic, owned by the author Emma Straub.

I find poetry can ofter be of assistance, hence so many on my blog. 🙂

Remembering my lovely Dad today too, on his birthday. If you’d like to know more about him, put ‘David Wiseman’ in my search bar.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on January 13, 2026 in books, friendship, nature, poetry, Postaday 2026, Words

 

Tags:

Rose, Lily and A Poem

The flowers I was given last week are still lovely.

The following poem is the one for today from my book, A Poet for Every Day of the Year, The Birch Tree by Sergei Yesenin translated by KMW Klara. I love the biographical information attached to each poem in this book.

 
 

Jigsaws, Another Jigsaw and A Poem

We have had the most marvellous week having hired Hellfire Jack’s at Trengove Farm for the family to stay so we could celebrate my 80th birthday all together.  There have been treats and delights every day and one of those was the set of four beautiful Christmas Jigsaw crackers I bought from Wentworth Puzzles, one for each family. These are tiny wooden  jigsaws that each fit in a cracker and which are really quite hard to complete.   The competition to finish first was fierce!

 

Today we have started on of the three jigsaws we were given for Christmas.

I have shared poems from Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer from whom I get a poem every day in my inbox. She gave me permission some time ago  to share whenever as long as you all know who the poet is. I love her work and would share even more but it seems greedy.
This one is very powerful recognising  that we all have power to build the good, that we can and must stand up for each other, even more important in America right now.

Building the World We Believe In

I haven’t given up on humans yet.
Though here in America where masked agents
pull women and men from their homes–
people who build our communities, our country–
we are so far from the goodness I imagine.
In second grade, I remember making forts
at recess with small snow balls we’d
squeeze in our hands. So carefully,
so gently, we would place them, one on top
of another to create a small home.
And then, maybe every time, when
the recess bell rang, a group of boys
would linger and at the last moment
they would kick our snow walls down.
It is in all of us, the bully, the one
who enjoys destruction, the one who
wants to feel powerful, strong.
But it is also in us all to speak out
for each other, to stand up for each other,
to say no, this is not okay. It is in us all of us
to gather the way we did in second grade
with our small mittened hands, going out
the next recess, and the next, and the next,
to build together again. Because we can.

—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Thank you for all the comments while we have been ill. We are bettering but not yet better. I will reply to all comments in the next day or two.  To enjoy the family visit we slept most of the day and joined ithem for the evening meal and fun every evening.

 

Tags: , , ,

Treasures and A Poem

We are gradually getting our utility room, aka Sun Room with its wide new window, back in order and have put some of the things back on the walls. One of these is an old print tray that I have used for special treasures, every one of which has a story.

Tomorrow, all the family will arrive for a  five day celebration of my birthday! This morning I read the following poem which reminded me of a fascinating fact I learned many years ago. Baby girls are born with all the eggs they will ever have, meaning a female foetus develops these future eggs while still in her mother’s womb, creating a fascinating biological link where a grandmother carried her future granddaughter as an immature egg inside her yet-to-be-born daughter.  So, tomorrow with two daughters arriving with their daughters, this poem reminds us of our very special connection.

 

 
6 Comments

Posted by on December 29, 2025 in art, family, paper, poetry, Postaday2025

 

Tags: