Poems in The Spectator - and Bonfires

Littlehampton bonfire night - boat burning

As a long time Spectator subscriber, I loved the poems they published in the magazine.   Then they stopped. And I think many of us wrote in to ask for the poems back.

And back they came. But somehow, for me, the magic had gone.  I am sure the poems were all good ones, but just not on my wavelength anymore.  Perhaps the Poetry Editor had changed?

Anyway, I was delighted to find these two wonderful poems in my current Speccie.

Going Home
Folk Festival

Closing her last set
She sings of going home
While couples rise up
From the bales they share
To fold into each other's arms
Already spirited
Across love's threshold,

Then later as I step
Alone into our house
I think of us as the song
Must have me do
On this dusky, scented
Summer night
That still belongs to you.

        John Mole



The Shadow

As the sun to the moon,
So is a parent to a favoured child,
Bestowing a concentrated bounty:
But such a child - like the moon -
Has a cold and dark side.

        Tim Hopkins



Hurray for The Speccie and for Tim Hopkins and John Mole.   Maybe they are back on my wavelength, or maybe my wavelength has changed?  Either way, I really enjoyed them, and will add them to my poetry pantheon.

Yesterday was bonfire night - the BIG bonfire was lit on The Green - its  still smouldering now, and as the sun sets I expect to see it still glowing orange - and they had the procession and the fireworks.  Jacks came over to join us but, here is another of the sad "firsts" on the slippery slope, for the first time we didn't make it through to the end of the fireworks. We had to hobble back indoors so we could sit down.

Still, it was  a good evening - veggie lasagne with salad, ice-cream and a cheese plate - and our usual NZ Marlborough wine. All those Marlboroughs are so good.

It was the meeting this morning and then I crashed out in front of the telly. Captain Butterfly is just back from a day's Treasure Hunting, so I will have to go and get him some supper in a minute.  (What is left of last nights - via the microwave).

porcupine sceat, Early Anglo-Saxon England, continental phase. 695-740 AD. AR Sceat, Series E, variety G1

No Treasure today, but he did find a sceat this week which will be appearing on his blog in due time I expect.