Recently, I have been exploring new areas of literature. I’ve been thoroughly enjoying classic novels; Wuthering Heights, Great Expectations and Far From the Madding Crowd. Of Mice and Men, which I studied a few years ago, is one of my favourite books.

However, something fairly new to me is poetry. I’ve been looking into poetry recently, and I’ve really been enjoying it. I’ve not often purveyed poetry before – I enjoy writing it, and do so often, but I’ve never found much in the writings of others. However, I’m looking to explore that new world, so please share with me some of your favourite poems.  I’d just like to share this with you; ‘The Little House of Lost Play’, by Tolkien.


We knew that land once, You and I,

and once we wandered there

in the long days now long gone by,

a dark child and a fair.

Was it on the paths of firelight thought

in winter cold and white,

or in the blue-spun twilit hours

of little early tucked-up beds

in drowsy summer night,

that you and I in Sleep went down

to meet each other there,

your dark hair on your white nightgown

and mine was tangled fair?

We wandered shyly hand in hand,

small footprints in the golden sand,

and gathered pearls and shells in pails,

while all about the nightengales

were singing in the trees.

We dug for silver with our spades,

and caught the sparkle of the seas,

then ran ashore to greenlit glades,

and found the warm and winding lane

that now we cannot find again,

between tall whispering trees.

The air was neither night nor day,

an ever-eve of gloaming light,

when first there glimmered into sight

the Little House of Play,

New-built it was, yet very old,

white, and thatched with straws of gold,

and pierced with peeping lattices

that looked toward the sea;

and our own children’s garden-plots

were there: our own forgetmenots,

red daisies, cress and mustard,

and radishes for tea.

There all the borders, trimmed with box,

were filled with favourite flowers, with phlox,

with lupins, pinks, and hollyhocks,

beneath a red may-tree;

and all the gardens full of folk

that their own little language spoke,

but not to You and Me.

For some had silver watering-cans

and watered all their gowns,

or sprayed each other; some laid plans

to build their houses, little towns

and dwellings in the trees.

And some were clambering on the roof;

some crooning lonely and aloof;

some dancing round the fairy-rings

all garlanded in daisy-strings,

while some upon their knees

before a little white-robed king

crowned with marigold would sing

their rhymes of long ago.

But side by side a little pair

with heads together, mingled hair,

went walking to and fro

still hand in hand; and what they said,

ere Waking far apart them led,

that only we now know.

— J.R.R. Tolkien

    Another I thoroughly enjoy is Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson.


What are your favourite poems?


Carpe Diem: Aomugi

This is my first entry to the Carpe Diem Haiku weblog, and I hope you all enjoy it. I’ll be honest, I haven’t written a haiku since primary school, where my debut work was ‘My Dog Jazz’. So, let’s give it a whirl, country girl!

Ah yes, the prompt word is Aomugi, meaning Green Barley!

O, sweet green barley,
Your long fronds a-swing the breeze,
Softly past my face.

So high dust thee climb,
Aomugi, for the hops,
Aye, for bitter beer.

Hey, how was that? Please comment!

Old Man Winter

Due to revision for my January exams, I haven’t much time for reading at the moment. Here’s a poem I wrote before Christmas.

Old Man Winter

As Autumn wanes,
and December comes,
the days shorten,
and the falling leaves,
are the red carpet herald of winter.

For Old Man Winter wakes,
and rises with a gusty cough,
his eyes the blue of winter rain,
his hair of crystal ice,
he stands up tall and goes to meet the world.

On window panes he draws,
the complex patterns of frost,
and at his touch,
the pools are under ice.
Such is his temper.

Many names he has acquired,
Jack Frost and Santa Claus,.
But who is he?
Nobody really knows,
and that’s the way of things.

The inspiration for this poem was brought to me by a colour. An ink, to be precise. It is Iroshizuku ‘Fuyu Syogun’, that meaning ‘Old Man Winter’. It’s a grey ink with subtle blue tones, and is the perfect winter colour. I don’t own any right now, but I hope to soon. I just gained something from the colour and had to write!

A Poem!

Three posts today, I know, I’m sorry!

I just finished writing out this poem in my first shoddy attempt at ‘Bilbo Hand’, which can be found here, and is the writing style of Bilbo (and Frodo) in the Lord of the Rings films. As it is, this took me ages to write, but I hope to become more fluent!

The poem is based off of Bilbo’s poem in Rivendell, Book 1, Chapter 3. I hope you enjoy it.

No, the font doesn’t incorporate capitals.