xi (2020) (reblogged poem)

i thought flowers would be nice after a poetry reading i was part of last night went so very well. Partly as at one time poetry seemed so far away, and whilst in some ways it is a response against treatment, some things have gone right over the years so i could start to do such things, though maybe not the most important things, and the poems are a rebellion in many ways, though maybe it always is to find yourself

a blind catch in the sun

some tide has moved the season of a heart
grafted growth saps rose to roots
cut back unseasoned years all winter harsh
dead wood now sparks green
but must proceed with caution
to bud the rose anew again
suddenly all of a floribunda
pink and white, both
dreamtide high in blossom fullness

A. H/ K.H-H (12th & 15th & 16th May 2020)

I copied out Berowne’s speech in Act 1 Sc. 1 of Love’s Labours Lost on vanity as I read it earlier this year, as it gives the epigram to the book Van Gogh’s Ear that I’d started (and need to pick up again). It’s a beautiful speech, to me anyway, plodder that I am in some ways. And I wrote it out for someone close. So I thought I’d try and write in the Bard’s manner a little and like this, though it probably needs situation amongst trans…

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