Penny's Poetry Blog

November Blue The golden tint of the electric lights seems to give a complementary colour to the air in the early evening.               ...

November The old year’s withered face is here again,      The twilight look, the look of reverie,      The backward gazing eyes that seem...

Goldenrod As Israel, in days of old, Beneath the prophet s rod, Amid the waters, backward rolled, A path triumphant trod; So, whi...

Believe It or Not Ladies and gentleman: we recovered a bullet at the hospital on the second victim's gurney. When examined, the bu...

Digging Today I think Only with scents,– scents dead leaves yield, And bracken, and wild carrot's seed, And the square mustard fie...

from The Shepheard's Pipe, the Fourth Eglogue Under an aged Oke was WILLY laid, WILLY, the lad who whilome made the rockes To ring...

On the Beach in November My heart's Ideal, that somewhere out of sight Art beautiful and gracious and alone,– Haply, where blue Sar...