PoemShape

Five of six Fantasy novels done, being WistÞistle, and I’m busy editing the second novel.

These are three poems recited by a stowaway (a lost girl) to a visiting rat in the fifth book of the six novel WistThistle Cycle.

So I’ve been single-mindedly writing my fantasy series—and not producing posts for Poemshape.

The following is a poem I wrote for Harriet Whitbread, back in 2021, originally posted here.

Although I don’t normally review free verse, I agreed to do a little review of Breona Dorch’s poems because she offers it as erotic poetry.

Autumn is promised, clouds are few,The hour puts out the sun;Let there be nothing troubles you:Your daily chores are done.A sea of starlight fill your sailsTo guide you safe away,And all your trails ride comet tailsAmong the nebulae,For all that realm bey…

The following was prompted by a visit to the local library with a friend.

So this is a sonnet I wrote for The Music Professor, just today.

The Wife’s Lament is an Anglo Saxon poem from the Exeter Book.

Robert Frost’s Directive is, in my opinion, his last great poem, and is found in Steeple Bush, his second to last book.

So I’m back to reading Dickinson and reading Sewall’s biography.