Metrical Friday: Small boy

Small boy By Norman McCaig He picked up a pebble and threw it into the sea. And another, and another. He couldn’t stop. He wasn’t trying to fill the sea. He wasn’t trying to empty the beach. He was just throwing away, nothing else but. Like a kitten playing he was practising for the future […]

Metrical Friday: ‘Parental Recollections’

Parental Recollections By Charles Lamb A child’s a plaything for an hour;      Its pretty tricks we try For that or for a longer space;      Then tire, and lay it by. But I knew one, that to itself      All seasons could controul; That would have mock’d the sense of pain      Out of a grieved soul. Thou, […]

Metrical Friday: ‘To Any Reader’

To Any Reader By Robert Louis Stevenson As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees, So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away, And in another garden, play. But do not think you can at all, By knocking on […]

Metrical Friday: ‘Father’s Old Blue Cardigan’

Father’s Old Blue Cardigan By Anne Carson Now it hangs on the back of the kitchen chair where I always sit, as it did on the back of the kitchen chair where he always sat. I put it on whenever I come in, as he did, stamping the snow from his boots. I put it […]

Metrical Friday: ‘Family Reunion’

Family Reunion By Maxine W. Kumin The week in August you come home, adult, professional, aloof, we roast and carve the fatted calf —in our case homegrown pig, the chine garlicked and crisped, the applesauce hand-pressed. Handpressed with greengage wine. Nothing is cost effective here. The peas, the beets, the lettuces handsown, are raised to […]

Metrical Friday: ‘The Princess: Sweet and Low’

The Princess: Sweet and Low By Alfred, Lord Tennyson Sweet and low, sweet and low,      Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow,      Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow,      Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, […]

Metrical Friday: ‘Only a Dad’

Only a Dad By Edgar Albert Guest Only a dad with a tired face, Coming home from the daily race, Bringing little of gold or fame To show how well he has played the game; But glad in his heart that his own rejoice To see him come and to hear his voice. Only a […]

Metrical Friday: ‘Fermanagh Cave’

Fermanagh Cave By Sherod Santos An emerald dungeon’s blacklight glow glimmered in the deeper reaches where my son and I could hear the slub of water riddling through the muck. We’d stumbled on it following a stream, his first cave made stranger still by a chill that closes on the goblined heart of a boy […]

Metrical Friday: ‘My Son the Man’

My Son the Man By Sharon Olds Suddenly his shoulders get a lot wider, the way Houdini would expand his body while people were putting him in chains. It seems no time since I would help him to put on his sleeper, guide his calves into the gold interior, zip him up and toss him […]