25 Tuesday Mar 2014
Posted in Denny's Diary, Poetry
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There are times when only poetry will do to satisfy the inner hunger and hurt that the world throws your way. Today I remember Yeats;
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Thank you Yeats,
To those who hurt today, and for those who know from bursting through the clouds in an aeroplane, the sun is there beyond the clouds.
Best wishes, Denny Bradbury
17 Monday Mar 2014
Posted in Denny's Diary
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Crocus and daffodils, forget me nots and wallflowers, woodpeckers and bumblebees;
as I walk through the emerging spring all these heighten my senses. Knowing that the cycle of seasons is on track once more engenders a sense of belonging to a greater whole than our tiny existence. We are part of it but it is not only about ‘us’.
In Dorset recently I saw the biggest black bumblebee, (no identification possible but if rare bombus soroeensis then how great) newly emerged hunting for food. My spirits lifted and I went on my way hoping that she would create her nest and her offspring would survive to breed again and help with vital pollination, we won’t survive without it.
Listening to the woodpeckers I ignored the ringing of my mobile phone as I didn’t want to waste a second of the beautiful noise.
very best wishes for a warm and trouble free spring.
Denny Bradbury
10 Monday Mar 2014
Posted in Denny's Diary, Poetry
I love to dip in and out of my two versions of these poems. Edward Fitzgerald’s is good and has a jaunty air to it but the more meaningful in the long term for me is the version by Peter Avery and John Heath-Stubbs
Thought for the day:
The captives of intellect and of the nice distinction,
Worrying about Being and Non-Being themselves become nothing;
You with the news, go and seek out the juice of the vine,
Those without it wither before they’re ripe.
I wish you a day blessed with good fortune
Denny Bradbury
06 Thursday Mar 2014
Posted in Denny's Diary, Poetry
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One of my sisters sent me this when I told her that I was taking too long to write and keep finding distractions keeping me away from what I know I want to do. Wonderful Keats:
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
Before high pil’d & grave’d books, in charactry,
Hold like rich gamers the full ripen’d grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And feel that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That shall I never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;- then on the shore
of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
Good writing all you poets out there
Denny Bradbury
Denny Bradbury Books 