ارسل: الخميس يونيو 02, 2016 3:59 pm موضوع الرسالة:
]The Saturday poem: From the Garden, with the Mushroom
by Ian McMillan[/u]
What I recall is this; it was autumn,
And there had been an eclipse during which
I stood with my dad in the garden
And we watched as the street grew darker
Than it should have, than it ever did.
Now it was at least one day later
And my dad walked in with a mushroom
That had illustrated the lawn’s green canvas
Since the eclipse turned the sky’s tone
A dirty colour. He passed the mushroom over.
It felt like the skin of someone who lived
In a place where no light gleamed. Whatever
I write now, all these long years after
Can never describe the mushroom’s scent
As I held it to my nose: earth and water,
And freshness, beauty. I held it to my lips
And bit it, much to my dad’s horror.
It tasted like the stillness of a fading eclipse.
• From To Fold the Evening Star, New and Selected Poems by Ian McMillan (Carcanet, £9.99). To order a copy for £7.99 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call Guardian book service on 0330 333 6846.
ارسل: الاربعاء نوفمبر 02, 2016 1:19 pm موضوع الرسالة:
The Saturday Poem: Turning
by Rebecca Watts
The Guardian Review, Saturday 29 October 2016
Now it’s autumn
and another year in which I could leave you
is a slowly sinking ship.
The air has developed edges
and I am preparing to let myself lie
in a curtained apartment,
safe in the knowledge that strangers
have ceased to gather and laugh
in the lane below
and the brazen meadow no longer
presumes to press its face to the window
like an inquisitor.
Soon even the river will evince a thicker skin,
my breath each morning will flower white,
and all of summer’s schemes will fly like cuckoos.
The leaves are turning and the trees
are shaking them off. Bonfire smoke
between us like a promise lingers.
• From The Met Office Advises Caution (Carcanet, £9.99). To order a copy for £8.19 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99.
ارسل: السبت فبراير 18, 2017 9:11 am موضوع الرسالة:
The Saturday poem: Tanager
by Billy Collins
Saturday 11 February 2017 11.00 GMT
If only I had not listened to the piece
on the morning radio about the former asylum
whose inmates were kept busy
at wooden benches in a workshop
making leather collars and wristbands
that would later be used to restrain them.
And if only that had not reminded me,
as I stood facing the bathroom mirror,
of the new state prison whose bricks had been set
by prisoners trucked in from the old prison,
how sweet and free of static my walk
would have been along the upland trail.
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Nothing to spoil the purity of the ascent –
the early sun, wafer-white,
breaking over the jagged crest of that ridge,
a bird with a bright-orange chest
flitting from branch to branch with its mate,
and a solitary coyote that stopped in its tracks
to regard me, then moved on.
Plus the cottonwood fluff snowing sideways
and after I stood still for a while,
the coyote appearing again in the distance
before vanishing in the scrub for good.
That’s the kind of walk it might have been.
• From The Rain in Portugal by Billy Collins (Picador £9.99). To order a copy for £8.49 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call Guardian book service on 0330 333 6846.