The branch seems to float In sky’s image in water— Both are reflections. The desolation, To one with a quiet soul, Is like a refuge. Like...

T.S. Eliot protested at the critics’ tendency to interpret literary works through the lens of the writer’s biography, but hypocritically,...

After Christina Rossetti’s "Three Stages" 1. I fastened all my wishes on a star, Although the physics that it satisfied Presumed the...

I anxiously wait by the phone, My favourite villa’s up in smoke, Barbarians are nearing Rome. I’m rich in titles, yet I’m broke. Great...

Falling Through Water Your eyes face a fading light, searching the sway of a young man whose footprints are shadows on a dark sea. You...

If I could escape this valley Where the gloomy vapors creep, By some wonder finally flee, My soul would blessedly weep! Gazing upon this...

Wordsworth contends with Blake as “the poet of childhood.” His particular strain of Romanticism saw in the innocence of childhood a...

Three ships sailed on a sea’s soft swell, a small sea, but one full of wrecks. In those wrecks, drowned men, their spent bones and from...

Forever We are way out here on the edge of town, and a breathless, gushing ocean clings to your tidewash of shards. We are way out here...

In the introduction to this five part series I proposed that there were three elements of Eliot’s poetry that were necessary to best...

I marvel at the way elderly couples can walk together with such delicateness that it’s like they’re holding the fate of the world in...

We have been promised gold like this before … But, now it glows on trees, we can't ignore it. One day we'll harvest it … Or mine it,...