Monday Night Poetry/May 4

Every Monday night at 9:00, I will post a poem, or a link if the poem is under copyright.

This week's poem is:

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.
                          Robert Frost

Monday Night Poetry/April 27, 2026

Every Monday night at 9:00, I will post a poem, or a link if the poem is under copyright.

I'm giving the link to this week's selected poem.

Monday Night Poetry/April 20, 2026

Every Monday night at 9:00, I will post a poem, or a link if the poem is under copyright.

This week's poem is:

My Star

All that I know

Of a certain star,

Is, it can throw

(Like the angled spar)

Now a dart of red,

Now a dart of blue,

Till my friends have said

They would fain see, too,

My star that dartles the red and the blue!

Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:

They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.

What matter to me if their star is a world?

Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.

                                                                Robert Browning

Monday Night Poetry/April 13, 2026

 This week I'm posting a link to a poem I first encountered
in my tenth grade English class. 

Monday Night Poetry

Tonight I’m introducing a new feature, or rather, reviving one
from an old blog. Every Monday night at 9:00, I will post a
poem, or, if it's under copyright, a link to it.

And the first poem I've selected is my favorite.

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things –
   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
                                Praise him.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Mixed Nuts

adl     ac       befi  abi   al    achi
mno   ehss   lr      lnr   nst  iops
ss       w       st      stuz uw  st

Three Pears In The Shape Of A Poem

   She eats
three pears every
afternoon at three while
looking at a book with paintings
of pears and listening to Satie's 
Three Pieces In The Shape Of A Pear

Garden Paths

 g  a  r  d  e  n       p  a  t  h  s
 o  s  o  a  d  a       e  z   i  y  n
 l   t  s   i   e  r       t  a  g  a  a
 d  e e   s   l  c       u  l  e   c  p
 e  r  s   i   w  i       n  e r   i   d
 n  s      e   e  s      i   a  l  n   r
 r          s    i  s      a  s  i   t   a
 o              s   i      s      l  h   g
 d              s                 i  s   o
                                   e      n
                                   s       s

         

Cherry, Raspberry, Or Strawberry?

https://thedailyspur.wordpress.com/2026/01/27/sigh/

https://mymindmappings.com/2026/01/27/fowc-with-fandango-shivering/

Red gelatin mold,
shivering,
shimmering,
quivering,
seeming to sigh,
"Why am I so cold?"

A Squirrelly Post

I've just learned that today is National Squirrel Day, so here are some things I want to share:

In the extremely funny, and also thought-provoking children's book, "Me And The Weirdos," by Jane Sutton, the main character's mother calls herself Squirrel.  I plan to re-read this book in the near future

When I was a little girl, I had this record by The Nutty Squirrels, which I played over and over. Drove my Mom crazy! (Or should I say "nutty?")

And I've always loved this poem, which was written by Ralph Waldo Emerson, and is in the public domain.

Fable

The mountain and the squirrel  

Had a quarrel;  

And the former called the latter ‘Little Prig.’

Bun replied,  

‘You are doubtless very big;         

But all sorts of things and weather  

Must be taken in together,  

To make up a year  

And a sphere.  

And I think it no disgrace  

To occupy my place.  

If I'm not so large as you,  

You are not so small as I,  

And not half so spry.  

I'll not deny you make  

A very pretty squirrel track;  

Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;  

If I cannot carry forests on my back,  

Neither can you crack a nut.’