While this is a lovely little couplet, with nary a verb in sight, it’s not my favorite Ezra Pound poem. That one is his parody of the Medieval English round, “Sumer is Icumen In,” which starts out: Winter is Icumen In Lhudde sing Goddamm . . . And, indeed, I was singing away and giving… Continue reading These Poems No Verbs
As some of you know, I’m British. And as such, I generally try to keep a pretty stiff upper lip about things. Not to whine unduly. And when I do whine, I try to whine directly at the person or people who are at the root of my dissatisfaction or unhappiness, or in the case… Continue reading Ave Atque Vale, Thou Bleak Midwinter of My Discontent!
Thirty-five years ago, Mr. Right and I sold our house in one of Pittsburgh’s lowest-rent districts, moved ourselves into a tent in a field in Washington County, PA, where our prospective new home was nothing more than a hole in the ground, and started to build. I’m sure the neighbors thought we were nuts. Nevertheless,… Continue reading The Snowman Cometh
Gotta say, there were a few times, this past winter, which was hard, cold, snowy, and icy to an extent I’d almost forgotten winter could be, when I was a bit worried. But it’s here: https://youtu.be/goAo5dC8P1s Note: The United Nations General Assembly (barf) has designated March 20 as its “International Day of Happiness.” So today’s… Continue reading Happy First Day of Spring!
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen… Continue reading Winter On My Farm
I’m not sure that “glorious summer” is just around the corner. Or, even if it is, whether I should give credit to the “Son of York,” or some other Son in the firmament. All I know is that we have a new lamb here at Chez She, born today to our young mother known as “Star.” Dad lives… Continue reading Occasional Quote of the Day: The Winter of Our Discontent”