A writer on WritersCafe.org reviewed one of my poems and mentioned Austin Clarke in his review. I had no idea who this might be so I googled him up. The poor fella's dead now, but has wonderful writing to read. He seems to have a way of putting the words to gether so they have a rhythm that's very pleasing to the ear. I invite anyone to take a read of him. I read some of his work on the following site:
http://www.irishcultureandcustoms.com/Poetry/AustinClarke.html
Really enjoyed this poem of his a great deal:
The Awakening of Dermuid
By Austin Clarke (From “The Vengeance of Finn.”)
In the sleepy forest where the bluebells
Smouldered dimly through the night,
Dermuid saw the leaves like glad green waters
At daybreak flowing into light,
And exultant from his love upspringing
Strode with the sun upon the height.
Glittering on the hilltops
He saw the sunlit rain
Drift as around the spindle
A silver-threaded skein,
And the brown mist whitely breaking
Where arrowy torrents reached the plain.
A maddened moon
Leapt in his heart and whirled the crimson tide
Of his blood until it sang aloud of battle
Where the querns of dark death grind,
Till it sang and scorned in pride
Love—the froth-pale blossom of the boglands
That flutters on the waves of the wandering wind.
Flower-quiet in the rush-strewn sheiling
At the dawntime Grainne lay,
While beneath the birch-topped roof the sunlight
Groped upon its way
And stooped above her sleeping white body
With a wasp-yellow ray.
The hot breath of the day awoke her,
And wearied of its heat
She wandered out by the noisy elms
On the cool mossy peat,
Where the shadowed leaves like pecking linnets
Nodded around her feet.
She leaned and saw in the pale-grey waters,
By twisted hazel boughs,
Her lips like heavy drooping poppies
In a rich redness drowse,
Then swallow—lightly touched the ripples
Until her wet lips were
Burning as ripened rowan berries
Through the white winter air.
Lazily she lingered
Gazing so,
As the slender osiers
Where the waters flow,
As green twings of sally
Swaying to and fro.
Sleepy moths fluttered
In her dark eyes,
And her lips grew quieter
Than lullabies.
Swaying with the reedgrass
Over the stream
Lazily she lingered
Cradling a dream.
Fun, Foibles, Fantasy. A glimpse into the inner workings of the mind of Judy.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Saturday, September 8, 2012
When you have the Munchies...
Judy Ponceby ·
Jun 10, 2011
An ogre set out to have a
feast one day.
Dreaming of all the creatures
he would slay.
He'd have bowls
full of trolls.
And fairies buttered
on rolls.
He'd eat hairy mountain
goat coats
And fattened up ducklings
full of their oats.
He'd chomp on legs
of forest elves
And pickled gnomes feet
from his shelves.
This fearsome young ogre
planned quite well,
Except for a troublesome
oyster shell.
It landed quite wrong
deep in his gullet.
And never more was heard
from Ogre Trullet.
Jun 10, 2011
Hungry Ogre
feast one day.
Dreaming of all the creatures
he would slay.
He'd have bowls
full of trolls.
And fairies buttered
on rolls.
He'd eat hairy mountain
goat coats
And fattened up ducklings
full of their oats.
He'd chomp on legs
of forest elves
And pickled gnomes feet
from his shelves.
This fearsome young ogre
planned quite well,
Except for a troublesome
oyster shell.
It landed quite wrong
deep in his gullet.
And never more was heard
from Ogre Trullet.
Friday, September 7, 2012
The Ones I Admire - My grandma Wallace
My grandma was married to a terrible man. But, she raised her children. After her husband died, I'm not sure where her life led her for a few years. But once I started paying attention, I found that she was supporting herself by being a live-in caretaker. I came to know her as a strong, independent woman. She had strong faith in the Bible. She also had strong views on many subjects. When I lived with her for a short while she would make me Gingerbread from scratch. She loved to sew crazy quilts and her bathroom was done entirely in pink. I love my grandma and still miss her. I remember the times we would walk up to the store together and talk and eat ice cream cones while it snowed. She was a great woman. And she never minded that I would roll her dice when it was her turn when we played Chutes and Ladders or Candyland. :)
Thursday, September 6, 2012
A Little Romance
Lighting the Heavens
luminous hued
sparkles
blink brightly
in the velvet night
gazing upon enamored
lovers
unaware of their
brilliance.
enthralled
they see
only
the eternal
glow
of
desire
just as brilliant
and burning
as the brightest
suns
in the heavens
sparkles
blink brightly
in the velvet night
gazing upon enamored
lovers
unaware of their
brilliance.
enthralled
they see
only
the eternal
glow
of
desire
just as brilliant
and burning
as the brightest
suns
in the heavens
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
Cake
Lovely chocolate icing,
in sensuous swirls.
Covering velvety,
tantalizing heaven.
Smelling of that warm,
soulful chocolate.
Slightly warm
and still gooey.
Served up with
a cold crisp glass of milk.
Mmmmmmm. :)
by J. Ponceby
in sensuous swirls.
Covering velvety,
tantalizing heaven.
Smelling of that warm,
soulful chocolate.
Slightly warm
and still gooey.
Served up with
a cold crisp glass of milk.
Mmmmmmm. :)
by J. Ponceby
Sunday, September 2, 2012
tick.....tick......tick.....
Merely continues its forward motion.
Marking movement of life and loss
The hands tick ever round and round
Never looking back, always forward
What is, only is, in the moment
And then is not.
J. Ponceby
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