The following poets have given their words for calligraphers to interpret. As a courtesy, please contact the poet to ask for permission to use their poems and please acknowledge authorship of each poem used.
Do send an e-mail of your interpretation of words to the author. [I'm sure it will be appreciated]
If there are other 'wordsmiths' who would like to add their poetry to this site, you are welcome to e-mail me.
Quiet Moon
Within a pale frame of gold,
Columned light falls between blue glass
With strength of air, which can enfold
Itself around a blade, and pass
Through rays which are not bright until they touch
The slowly spinning meteors of your dust.
Between the pillared glass, a breeze
Slides and hums, as fragrant and as slow
As the lazily tumbling leaves
Which infuse my cup – you glow
With coolness, strength of water which can shape
Itself around every granule of a lake.
Beneath the breeze lie waters, strewn
Round pillars, gleaming olive sinking deep
Through the spectrum into gloom
Where phosphorescent secrets creep
Across uncharted floors, as strong as pearl
Whose milky tears the centuries can’t unfurl.
But tiny fragments of the glaze,
Rising from the opaque, unseen blacks
Spiral upwards through the haze
Whispering that the core has cracks.
I wish this quiet moon could make you whole
Which orbits patiently. My love: your soul.
Drowsy Substrata
Once upon a thunderstorm
a lightning flash away
Rain promised at the window pane
To take the heat away.
A candle there you brought me
Though the darkness did not flee
yet it softened at the corners
And in warmth enfolded me.
In a blanket with a candle
at the centre of my heart
All secrets can be naked
In the privacy of dark.
The feelings that lie wordless
Subterranean in my sould
With a flash are in the open
And can still remain as whole
Quiet Moon
Within a pale frame of gold,
Columned light falls between blue glass
With strength of air, which can enfold
Itself around a blade, and pass
Through rays which are not bright until they touch
The slowly spinning meteors of your dust.
Between the pillared glass, a breeze
Slides and hums, as fragrant and as slow
As the lazily tumbling leaves
Which infuse my cup – you glow
With coolness, strength of water which can shape
Itself around every granule of a lake.
Beneath the breeze lie waters, strewn
Round pillars, gleaming olive sinking deep
Through the spectrum into gloom
Where phosphorescent secrets creep
Across uncharted floors, as strong as pearl
Whose milky tears the centuries can’t unfurl.
But tiny fragments of the glaze,
Rising from the opaque, unseen blacks
Spiral upwards through the haze
Whispering that the core has cracks.
I wish this quiet moon could make you whole
Which orbits patiently. My love: your soul.
Drowsy SubstrataOnce upon a thunderstorm
a lightning flash away
Rain promised at the window pane
To take the heat away.
A candle there you brought me
Though the darkness did not flee
yet it softened at the corners
And in warmth enfolded me.
In a blanket with a candle
at the centre of my heart
All secrets can be naked
In the privacy of dark.
The feelings that lie wordless
Subterranean in my sould
With a flash are in the open
And can still remain as whole
Lin Kerr - Once upon a Thunderstorm
I interpreted Megan's poem Drowsy Substrata a number of years ago. She wrote it when she was seventeen and I remember with delight the highveld thunderstorms in South Africa where the heat was so oppressive just before it rained and then there was dramatic lightning and the hammering of the rain on the tin roof of the house.
Megan Kerr is a writer and gives writers workshops in Oxford - www.megankerr.co.uk and I quote from her website: "Writing is my life, my passion, my raison d'être and sine qua non." You may be interested in her Poetry manifesto - read more on her website - where she speaks of how poetry as an art is dying "and I am angry because I love poetry.
Megan Kerr is a writer and gives writers workshops in Oxford - www.megankerr.co.uk and I quote from her website: "Writing is my life, my passion, my raison d'être and sine qua non." You may be interested in her Poetry manifesto - read more on her website - where she speaks of how poetry as an art is dying "and I am angry because I love poetry.
- Poems you can recite in a noisy restaurant or declaim over drinks
- Poems you can use
- Poems that stick in your head
- Poems that are technically flawless"
