the river

Poem #308 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie. Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction he wept young hours with every tear he let fall into the slow sweep of the river of regrets drop by drop time must fall and melancholy holds its own duration hour … Continue reading the river

populating the sky

Poem #295 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie. Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction blue sky clear sky he populated the blue with a bird watched it flying busy on its path he populated the blue with birds with a flight watched them gyre a collective … Continue reading populating the sky

seeing the flower

Poem #267 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie. Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction see that flower the gardener pointed it is there it is growing it is good it is there that I planted it it is good because I enriched the soil for it … Continue reading seeing the flower

morning wakes the water

Poem #250 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie. Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction morning comes the water wakes suddenly there is light dancing on a wavelet a ripple shaping over river-stones a leaf free at last and sailing downstream is the sea morning wakes the … Continue reading morning wakes the water

tuning the roygbiv – an instrument of strings and arcs

he turned a little bit the tuning peg trying to set the red into the arc ran his fingers across the string to make it sound the colour another string in orange time arcing in the yellow the green the blue indigo so sensitive a twist a test another turn violet violet nestled in and … Continue reading tuning the roygbiv – an instrument of strings and arcs

the ladder (part b) leaving zero

Poem #198 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie. Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction he has … what exactly not fallen drifted descended come out of control in slow motion from some mighty distance above to eventually sort of clatter sort of crash kind of bounce … Continue reading the ladder (part b) leaving zero

a tock (with dali)

Poem #174 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie. Back to Bachelard and me – Introduction time that melts like French soft cheese molding seconds minutes hours every toc and every tic to slide seamlessly into the wall time stuck like an adhesive to hold up the passing … Continue reading a tock (with dali)