“Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”
Month: December 2018
SILVER (WALTER DE LA MARE)
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.
HOW TO MAKE A SNOWFLAKE CHRISTMAS CAKE
Cover Reveal: Sea Babies by Tracey Scott-Townsend
Now, I’m breaking my own self-imposed rules here. I’m not supposed to be taking on any new blog posts until I’ve read and reviewed some of the huge mountain of books I have on my TBR but when lovely Kelly at LoveBooksGroup got in touch to ask if I’d like to help with the cover reveal for Tracey Scott-Townsend’s new book I had to participate.
You see, I first met Tracey Scott-Townsend at an event called Oceans of Words, at which she was speaking and you can see my write up here. Since then I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Tracey properly and she’s so lovely that I had to invite her onto Linda’s Book Bag to tell me about one of her books, Another Rebecca, in a post you can read here. I have also had the pleasure of reviewing some of Tracey’s poetry in…
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THE LION KING (TRAILER)
CHRISTMAS TREATS
The Search for Lost Lives – James Tate
I was chasing this blue butterfly down
the road when a car came by and clipped me.
It was nothing serious, but it angered me and
I turned around and cursed the driver who didn’t
even slow down to see if I was hurt. Then I
returned my attention to the butterfly which
was nowhere to be seen. One of the Doubleday
girls came running up the street with her toy
poodle toward me. I stopped her and asked,
“Have you seen a blue butterfly around here?”
“It’s down near that birch tree near Grandpa’s,”
she said. “Thanks,” I said, and walked briskly
toward the tree. It was fluttering from flower
to flower in Mr. Doubleday’s extensive garden,
a celestial blueness to soothe the weary heart.
I didn’t know what I was doing there. I certain-
ly didn’t want to capture it. It was like
ly didn’t want to capture it. It was like
something I had known in…
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A Stream Flowing
Now I saw a stream flowing;
Now neither bank nor bridge was seen.
Now I saw a bush in bloom;
Now neither rose nor thorn was seen.
Another Kind Of Grass 