words stream past me poetry
disturbed surfaces reflecting clouds
reflecting wrinkled neon
On Friday the Man and me took off to London, me with scribbling pad, he with camera. It was one of those beautiful autumn mornings, no work scheduled for the day so we took the opportunity to do 'something else'. My 'something else' was to visit the poetry library. Up until a few weeks ago I hadn't heard of the poetry library, so I was keen to check it out. It's based in The South Bank Centre and if you arrive in time for a sandwich lunch you may even be serenaded with great music for free! Though I can't guarantee this with every visit.
The poetry library is on the fifth floor of the Centre and it has a wealth of poetry books and collections. I can guarantee that you will find something there to stir and inspire the mind. In fact you don't even need to read from the written page. As I gazed out the window (between readings) the lines above by Adrienne Rich caught my eye. On a beautiful day, I enjoyed 'the reflecting clouds' and the time, the peace and the quiet to savour the words I read.
When I met the Man later, he had captured a few pictures which interestingly enough captured something of the essence of the day too. Did you know that Calliope was the Muse of Poetic Inspiration?
I noted a comment from DW Grubb's poetry collection, (The Memory of Rooms)
" ...Poets deaths get mentioned, seldom their entrances, rarely their authority as change-agents, enhancers, entrancers".
I hadn't really thought about the poet as a change -agent, enhancer and entrancher. I like that.