Keep The Home Fires Burning

By MajorSeventh

26.1K 2.6K 1.2K

A poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and mutterin... More

Apparently a Flying-Ant Day
Gong's First Garden Sonnet
Scoffed the Lot!
Sorrow
Gong's Second Lyrical Garden Poem
Come Back John Clare
No Worries
Humid Days
Trespass
Alliances
Chords
Anima Muses
Gong as Odysseus
Some Days
Sparrow, Sparrow: Song
Long Day
We Bees
Spider
Reverse Time
Old Friend
Hothouse Days
Team
Who could ask...?
Silence
Sand Martins
Our Own Resources
Leaving in Rain
Vanished - Long Ago
Now
The Line
Little Ghost Moth
As Soon As
Field-Edge
Wind-Dragon, Bertha, at Holkham
Sun, Wind and Spatters.
Overtaken by Elegy
Gazan Eye
Waiting: 14th August
Brush Up Your Shakespeare
Windy Wattpad Day
TS Eliot was right but wrong but
Horror
Asda (Walmart), 5:30, Tuesday, Middle of August
Italian Sonnet: Joy
Gong's 'Italian'
Jacket Weather
Here I Go
Re-made
Snail Bacchanalia
Red Lights
Intimations
Last Days of August
Words
Where I Am - Writing in the Garden
31st August
Robin in September & Littlest Hover Fly
The Snag
Under a Blank Sky
September Contract
Still Growing
Spied Her.
A Little Ado
Frames
Dull Still Empty
Of the First
Soft September
Aten High
September Bindweed
Still Lives (With Hedge and Fruit Trees)
One Robin
Beaded
Equinox
Delamere Forest
Autumn Journals
Two Poems: Cloud-lidded
Illustrating
Too Close
Indoors Outdoors
Sunday Sun Day
Weave a River Round
A Perspective
Last Day of September
Petal of the Blackberry
Praise and Dismay
Indian Summer
Refuge
In the Fullness
Populous
October 5th
Sunny Moment For You
Envoi

September Warmth

160 25 9
By MajorSeventh

Someone said  it would last right to November
this mild, still heat that gathers, gently hazed
today, as clouds of varying densities try it on.

Yellow heads, ragged-feathered globes,
and clean, white-buttoned, empty heads, yes,
dandelions cycle on sporadically and tiny,
tender, purple stars of marsh willow-herb
continue the profusion of their late blooming.

Well, after a week of these thin, southwesterly clouds,
and such long-celled intervals of  sleepy beneficence,
buzzed with the epics of the big black flies,
long honey-jars of spirit batteries
are brimming with the very ooze of sunlight.

Maybe we can grow tall as trees by knitting air
or weave an emperor's superior diaphany.*

I know full well when I close my eyes the little orchard
Rackhams* full of big-eyed goblin smiles.

..................................

*Diaphany: noun I have coined from the adjective 'diaphanous'.
*Rackhams: verb I have coined from the painter's name.

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