Tag Archives: poems

Cover Art ready for the Sombre Chapbook

Hello, and here is an update for the Sombre Chapbook. In case you missed the beginning – here are the details. And now, the news: all poems have been selected and arranged, roughly edited, awating final moderation,

but the main piece of news is that

I HAVE THE COVER ART FOR THE BOOK READY. And here it is:

Copyright © 2011 Emil Penchev

How about that 😉 The artist is currently working on the contents. So, hopefully, it will be out soon.

Daffodils, by W. Wordsworth

In a beautiful day, here is something to match the mood. Remember the Lake Poets?

Daffodils

 

Daffodils

by William Wordsworth
(1770-1850)

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills.
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a boy:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company;
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

*

Food, prompt by Sunday Scribblings

Here is a poem about Food, as prompted by the Sunday Scribblings

In fact, it is a piece I have already  contributed before, as part of the November PAD Challenge I did last November, yet I consider it suitable. Besides, pasta is forever my favourite food, albeit so … bad for … you know… everything. 🙂

Well, enjoy the serving:

*

They say, “Pasta’s bad for your health”

I say, “Pasta’s great for my mood”


They go, “Pasta ruins your diet”

“But then I am nice and quiet”


Eating T-bones and steaks is barbarity,

Civilised pasta and bread is calamity.


So, is health what we crave, or felicity?

Is truth more important than integrity?

 

Stacking, Nov PAD 16

a “stacking” poem

*****

The warehouse of your anxiety

Should be torn down

And the stacked piles of your worries

Be scattered around

To make ground,

To make way,

To make sure

That you’re awake.

***