Pinewood Castle

Poetry Friday

This is Sunshine at her finest.Think I should sign her up for a drama class?

Poetry Friday

Oh my, it's now Sunday and this is two days late. Please forgive me. Notice the nostrils for a good chuckle. Just don't tell him or he'll never recite for the camera again. He's a precious one, this little guy!

Poetry Friday

 SEPTEMBER

by: Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

HE golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down.

 

The gentian's bluest fringes

Are curling in the sun;

In dusty pods the milkweed

Its hidden silk has spun.

 

The sedges flaunt their harvest,

In every meadow nook;

And asters by the brook-side

Make asters in the brook.

 

From dewy lanes at morning

The grapes' sweet odors rise;

At noon the roads all flutter

With yellow butterflies.

 

By all these lovely tokens

September days are here,

With summer's best of weather,

And autumn's best of cheer.

 

But none of all this beauty

Which floods the earth and air

Is unto me the secret

Which makes September fair.

 

'T is a thing which I remember;

To name it thrills me yet:

One day of one September

I never can forget.

Poetry Friday

Night-time stars and bonfires bright
Families and friends sing on good St. John's Night
Summer sun, the sweet smell of hay,
And Children all dancing on Midsummer Day.

At Midsummer time the fairies come out,
If children could see them with glee they would shout!
On Midsummer's Eve even gnomes try to dance,
In fairy-ring revels they awkwardly prance.
On Midsummer Day elves and fairies all fly
From acorns and buttercups up to the sky.

- Mala Powers

Poetry Friday

The Moon
by Robert Louis Stevenson