Not so deep as he had hoped,
but deeper than he thought,
and further than the lusting gaze
of foreign lovers sought.
Every poet has his deaths
(herein the po’try lies),
and at the end of a glazed mind
can meaning yet arise.
© Blake Leitch February 13, 2019
It’s hard to write
from here.
And it’s hard to read
from here. (more…)
By Marianne Moore (more…)
“When I am dead,”
The wizard said,
“I’ll look upon the narrow way
And this Dante,
And know that he was right
And he’ll delight
In my remorse,
Of course.”
“When I am dead,”
The student said,
“I shall have grown so tolerant,
I’ll find I can’t
Laugh at your sorry plight
Or take delight
In your chagrin,
Merlin.”
By Marianne Moore
You make me think of many men
Once met, to be forgot again
Or merely resurrected
In a parenthesis of wit
That found them hastening through it
Too brisk to be inspected.
by Marianne Moore
Three years ago I wrote here that I would dedicate myself more to this website, to this blog. Three years ago was also the last time I wrote a blog post here, or anywhere now that I come to think of it. I could blame disability or schooling or general life, and I’d have some pretty reasonable points. But I also could have focused myself and prioritised. I didn’t.
(more…)
blakeleitchpoetry.com 