An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high bright tendrils
and sang:
Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood’s edge.
An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high bright tendrils
and sang:
Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood’s edge.
Here, Now and Somewhere else
Moda-Creative thinking
Lucania la mia ragione di vita
Deal with the faults of others as gently as your own.
....But if you stay in my lane long enough, you'll experience my emotions...
Daily wind
Welcome to my world
Gesundheit - Rezepte - Reisen
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We're all on a road to somewhere.
My poetry is my religion.
poetry by Robert Ford
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Un espacio para la reflexión de anécdotas y cosas que no son del mundo. Un lugar que no pretende ser polémico, pero si causar algún pensamiento en la noche…
This one is brilliant ! I really like it. He is one of my favourite poets anyway.
Mine, too. This was one I had pinned to my corkboard back in New York. Perhaps it’s time to pin it up here.
Yes, it reminds I am now 71 and can still keep going.
Right. Same here.
Reblogged this on From 1 Blogger 2 Another.
Thanks, Douglas, for reblogging this WCW poem.
Well done Leonard!
I just found those last two sentences so lovely. My Daisy, our Cross Lurcher/Alsation when we rescued her was called “Willow” but we changed it to Daisy.
It’s one of my favorites of his.
Really beautiful!
I agree.