Alfred, Lord Tennyson
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
April Poetry Month, day 3, barely on time. Oy, what have I gotten myself into?
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s…
God, I seriously have the weirdest dreams. Last night, it was about the Council of Elrond. While the Council was deciding what to do with the Ring,…
(Untitled) by Stephen Crane A man saw a ball of gold in the sky; He climbed for it, And eventually he achieved it-- It was clay. Now this is the…