Poetry

Don’t Go Into That Rain

Posted on by Hanna

Bad weather does not exist! It is only a matter of clothes and positive attitude.
That attitude has worked for me for many years.
But a jammed jet stream makes me suffer together with many people and not only in Denmark.
It has caused the wettest autumn in man’s memory, and will probably end up making it the wettest year ever.
It is as if the sun has disappeared forever.
That’s why I visited my time machine – Autumn 2018. A necessity for maintaining a healthy mental state 🙂

The headline is not to be confused with one of my favourite poems by Dylan Thomas: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night. Sorry about my black humour!

A Secret Gate

Posted on by Hanna

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

A Deep Hoarse Call

Posted on by Hanna

The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in. ~ W.H. Auden

There are special days in life that stands out as bright memories. There might be joyous days with the ones you love. And then there are days when you are out on your own. Days which are perfect for exploring all kind of winding paths in the woods.

It was on such a day, a spring day when I heard a deep hoarse call above the path. The tree tops formed a perfect acoustic space for bird song. A green airy room. Light-hearted I walked under the beautiful arch.

Suddenly, the deep hoarse call came back. I looked up into the foliage vault, as a large black bird flew into the woods and back over the source.

Now I saw them. Two young ravens sat perched on a branch waiting for food and the latest news from the outside world.

On this wonderful autumn day I can not help but look for the ravens from that glorious day in spring.

Folios of April

Posted on by Hanna

These are folios of April,
All the library of spring,
Missals gilt and rubricated
With the frost’s illumining.
Ruthless, we destroy these treasures,
Set the torch with hand profane—
Gone, like Alexandrian vellums,
Like the books of burnt Louvain!
Yet these classics are immortal:
O collectors, have no fear,
For the publisher will issue
New editions every year. ~ Burning Leaves, November by Christopher Morley

The Veil Is Thinner

Posted on by Hanna

A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made.  The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air.
~   Eric Sloane

The Cup Of Ocean

Posted on by Hanna

What does the cup of ocean hold?
Glory of purple and glint of gold;
Tenderest greens and heavenly blue,
Shot with the sunlight through and through;
Wayward ripples that idly roam.
Tumbling breakers with gallant foam;
Sands and pebbles that chase and slide;
Mystic currents that softly glide;
Mighty spell of the ages old,
This does the cup of ocean hold…

~ Amos Russel Wells

Greetings from the mountains

Posted on by Hanna

Every time I see cotton grass, my thoughts fall on the Norwegian mountain lakes.

The video from the Norwegian mountains is one of my absolute favourites.
Watch and get inspired!

The Heart’s Core

Posted on by Hanna

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

~ W. B. Yeats, The Lake Isle of Innisfree

One thing you have to do

Posted on by Hanna

Find your own special hideaway
A meadow where swallows are practising on their long flight to Africa
A faerie forest where you can go for a walk and get lost among elves
A cove by the sea where you can go for a late night swim
A secret cave where you can seek shelter for the storm
Or a lovely lake where you can catch a fish for your dinner
The possibilities are endless and the only limit is your imagination

A September Morning

Posted on by Hanna

The morrow was a bright September morn; 
The earth was beautiful as if newborn; 
There was nameless splendor everywhere, 
That wild exhilaration in the air, 
Which makes the passers in the city street 
Congratulate each other as they meet.
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow