In a “wise passiveness“ I sit
Able to conquer any fit.
Wounded is my melancholy
When he meets his deft enemies
My Serenity, and Spirit

Ya.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXLVII)


Blue heavns with clouds as fiberfill gone stale
Jist floating lazly in morn's vague suspense,
Where coffee scents the air with half a sense
Of yonder whilst mine owly eyes in pale
Excuse take note of aught reply t'avail
As wont, sans words to roll oer fer intents
My tongue, and silence shifts as twere from hence
Without a voice as I leave that detail.
So later, from the kichen window fer
Mair than whatever, watch a wolf chase to
Effect some shapeless form, which as it were
Is caught just as his mouth decays in blue
Seas no, erm, Jolly Roger haunts in tour,
And wonder if that signifies aught too.

05Mar19a

It is in the woods
In the world
That i may find peace
Whether resting on the banks of despair
Or wandering through a thicket of feeling
I come to find
Deep seclusion
That grants me thought
And while i may take pause
It is then
And then alone
That i am
Truly at peace
All this world has beauty
And it is i who finds
Great these scenes

I can feel it all within me
My blood courses through my veins
Akin the coursing river i pass by
It is not easy to acknowledge
But i often grant no thought
To the world around
Blind i am
And blind i remain
But in this world i am given
Tranquil restoration

Until i am dead and gone
No more flesh
No more bone
I will contemplate this world
These mountains
And rivers
Trees
And cliffs
For the great care that has been given it
Will be continued through me
And when i am but a soul
A spirit
Drifting
My harmony with the world
And serenity will
Carry on

But oh
Death
I deny it me
It cannot steal me
From my pleasure
I bask in creation
And all around me
The earth shakes with shivers
I know all too well
Until my thoughts are thoughts no more
I will hope the future
Will ask for me

I thirst
I thirst for what i do not know
What i cannot see
And what my eyes have recognized but my heart has not
The nature i lose myself in has caused me
To lose myself
I know not what i be
Or what i’ll be
But the times past are no more
And i weep for them

As a man i am curious
What lies beyond
The cries of fallen brethren
The sad harmonies that the animals we’ve displaced
Escape their bodies
They mourn
And so do i
I am
Compelled
To tell their stories
To sing their songs
In a major key

I am a slave to it
The world i’ve ignored
I need not the society
I abandoned up the road
Nature has stolen my heart
My thoughts
My life
My me

I catch a glimpse
Of who i was
The things i once found true
And i shudder
For mother nature was not
And is not greedy
She cares for her children
In ways i could never understand
It brings her joy to raise life up
And we deny her that
Day after day
Yet still
She smiles

We walked this together
You and i
Recalling that once our mother would be there
Waiting
Calling
But now
It is only me
I am alone
And i wander
With sorrowful thoughts
And despairing diction
With a mother who is not mine
Mother nature
Who welcomes me
And embraces me
Yet still
I am alone
The moon highlights my path
And where there were once two sets
Of footsteps
It is now only one
The ghost of you --
Dear sister --
Trailing further and further
Away

What are your words worth
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well thank God I am at last set free
Trapped within these pages so dog-eared
I began to think that no one wanted me.
The top shelf of a thrift shop was my goal
To be pulped at the recycle yard my fate
But “Glory , Hallelujah “ two dollars paid
This liberator took me home n read aloud.
“I wandered lonely as a cloud”
“ That floats on high o’er vales and hills “

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip November 18th 2018.
Poetry of Wordsworth Published 1807.

I feel Clare,
Like a seed,
Planted from birth.
Who blossoms in Spring,
Then dies in Winter,
A kind girl,
***** blond hair,
With ready smile,
I hold her hand,
As she fades away.

...that is invisible.



(sonnet #MMMMMMXII)


So...we'll feign's not sae bitter as snow thence
Is gone with yesterday and skies t'avail
Are softly blue, like April waltzes, hale
Green nubbins of both tulips and ah hence
What Wordsworth knew as jonquils was't? now fence
These warmly golden hours with hopes' detail.
For daffodils' bright yellow shall soon hail
Again and purple violets wink fr'intents.
I do not long for summer's heat girls stir
Blog posts and comment for, because they do.
Yet O!  to wander in the shadows fer
Sweet ****** white-and-purple violets dew
Half lingers on in silver droplets were
What I could gasp to own 'til I see You.

14Mar13a

No, we certainly shall not.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXVII)


O Wordsworth!  La, but how his spirit's hale
Pride sifts anon twixt every stanza, whence
My soul congeals, as left like bones from hence
To dry and bleach in heavn's bald eye; joys fail
Whileas he waxes eloquent, to hail
Aught note of twinkling life with that cold sense
Which calculates the breath out of all thence
Caught in his lines, til I can't breathe t'avail.
He takes up passion like's unknown as twere,
Despite the fact he is just that, yet to
A fault upon a bloodless scale, who'd stir
The whitened ashes of aught fire to do
It up as if's a specimen:  dead.  Poor
As all that, he extolled much...sans life's dew.

10Jul17a

We sped along the highway,
Faster than two hundred year old clouds;
All at once a yellow blur of sunflowers
Filled the only view we had.
Fields and fields of sunflowers
Facing the south sun like a choir;
And ready for harvest.

Denise remarked she liked the seeds,
And the oil is good for pharmaceuticals, etc.
We use them a lot, I quipped.
But we were in a rush to see
Stratford's As You Like It,
So they never got a second thought.
Til now, you see,
For I'm feeling somewhat vacant.

BEHOLD her, single in the field,
  Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
  Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,        
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
  More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
  Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—
  Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
  And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
  As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
  And o'er the sickle bending;—
I listen'd, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

---------------------------------  This poem inspired my poem >>>
I Never Know
(Inspired by ‘Another Solitary Reaper’  by Wordsworth)

I never know if, out of sight
Another stands by in delight
Listening to my melody
Intended  just for me

If I sing in the open air
And only birds can hear me there
I wonder what response they have
I know they cannot clap

‘Tis very well they hear!
Though we can see no ears
I could be wrong but
I doubt that they enjoy our song

We think we are alone a lot
When we are not
Assumptions made are wrong
About who listens to our songs

Sean Hunt  May 11th 2016
(Inspired by ‘Another Solitary Reaper’  by Wordsworth)

I visited Wordsworth Trust in Grasmere this morning.  They have established a poetry blog and are inviting poems from the public for consideration.  They are selecting some for publication on their website.  They are specifically asking people to read 'The Solitary Reaper' by Wordsworth and write a poem inspired by his poem.  So this is my effort.  If anyone wishes to do the same you could publish the poem here and then contact Simon Davies at Wordsworth Trust by email or send a link to your poem on Hello Poetry.  I think I will try the latter.   Simon's email address is:  S.Davies@wordsworth.org.uk.

My idea worked well;  I copied the Hello Poetry url link and pasted it in my comment on the Wordsworth comments page.........i.e
thoughts on “Another Solitary Reaper”

https://wordsworth.org.uk/blog/2016/05/04/another-solitary-reaper/

Sean Hunt
11TH MAY 2016 AT 5:31 PM
Your comment is awaiting moderation.

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1648554/i-never-know/

I wrote a poem inspired by this Wordsworth poem and I uploaded it to a web poetry site (link above). What struck me about the poem was not the actual imagined idyllic experience of a surprised eavesdropping walker, listening to a well-sung song, it was for me, the non-awareness of the singer that she was being listened to and enjoyed; I found this to be the most interesting aspect of the described scene. Thank you for the encouragement to read this poem and be inspired by it Simon _/_
REPLY
#wordsworth

(Inspired by ‘Another Solitary Reaper’  by Wordsworth)

I never know if, out of sight
Another stands by in delight
Listening to my melody
Intended  just for me

If I sing in the open air
And only birds can hear me there
I wonder what response they have
I know they cannot clap

‘Tis very well they hear
Though we can see no ears
I could be wrong but
I doubt they enjoy our song

We think we are alone a lot
When we are not
Assumptions made are wrong
About who listens to our songs

Sean Hunt  May 11th 2016