Poetry Forum

I appreciate your constructive comments.
Thank you.

Antcliff wrote: No finch on my rowan;
no frill-flurrying to welcome spring;
nor softly sing.

That wicked finch in the tree,
To forsake you, and flaunt with me!

Antcliff wrote:I want to build a cross betweeen
a first world war tank and riverboat
and move, slowly, around the island.
The pace would fit today.

Sometimes we need to slow down... your idea sounds ideal.

Bullfinch on a rowan branch,
Peach and pink preened puffball.
Black-capped beak, crush scarlet berries,
If I blink, I'll miss it all.

The Were-Wolf’s Curse High upon a lonely tor, A man, in frantic haste. To home, to hide behind the door, His soul is being chased. Too late, he stumbles to the ground, The darkness closes in. Terror shrieks a deathly sound, Pleasured by outrageous sin. Then the night is silent, The bite, the blood, ...

I love poetry that creates a strong mood within me. I felt the sensuality of that piano (or keyboard) metaphor.

Reminds me of childhood days kicking through the autumn fallen leaves along a woodland path. It's simple and light and bowls you along.