 Poetry: July 13, 2022 Issue [#11457] |
This week: Walter de la Mare Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady
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The Song Of Shadows
by Walter de la Mare
"Sweep thy faint strings, Musician,
With thy long lean hand;
Downward the starry tapers burn,
Sinks soft the waning sand;
The old hound whimpers couched in sleep,
The embers smoulder low;
Across the walls the shadows
Come, and go.
Sweep softly thy strings, Musician,
The minutes mount to hours;
Frost on the windless casement weaves
A labyrinth of flowers;
Ghosts linger in the darkening air,
Hearken at the open door;
Music hath called them, dreaming,
Home once more."
Alone by
Walter de la Mare
The abode of the nightingale is bare,
Flowered frost congeals in the gelid air,
The fox howls from his frozen lair:
Alas, my loved one is gone,
I am alone:
It is winter.
Once the pink cast a winy smell,
The wild bee hung in the hyacinth bell,
Light in effulgence of beauty fell:
I am alone:
It is winter.
My candle a silent fire doth shed,
Starry Orion hunts o'erhead;
Come moth, come shadow, the world is dead:
Alas, my loved one is gone,
I am alone;
It is winter.
On April 25, 1873 in Kent, James Edward de la Mare and wife Lucy Sophia, welcomed son Walter de la Mare into their family. James was a principal at Bank of England, his wife
Lucy was the daughter of Dr Colin Arrott Browning. The two had seven children together, three boys and four girls. Walter de la Mare attended St Paul's School in London. At the age of sixteen he left St Paul's School to take up a career in accountancy with the Anglo-American Oil Company. It was during the years he worked at the oil company that he began writing.
In 1892 Walter de la Mare met and fell in love with Elfrida Ingpen, who was ten years his senior. The two were married on August 4, 1899. The couple went on to have four children together, two boys and two girls. They lived in Anerley in south London. In 1902 he published his first publication, "Songs of Childhood," under the surname Walter Ramal. In 1908 Walter de la Mare was awarded a government pension which allowed him to focus on writing full time. He published a prose, "Henry Brocken," in 1904, then "The Return," in 1910. He also had several successful children's stories, "The Three Mulgars," in 1910, followed by "Memoirs of a Midget," in 1921 and "Come Hither," in 1923. Throughout his writing career he found success in prose, poetry, short stories and novels. Some of his other publications include, "The Veil and Other Poems" published in 1921, followed by "Down-Adown-Derry: A Book of Fairy Poems," in 1922 and "A Child's Day: A Book of Rhymes," in 1924. He published "Stuff and Nonsense and So On," in 1927 and "On the Edge," in 1930 followed by, "Time Passes and Other Poems," in 1942.
In 1940 his wife, Elfrida was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. The disease progressed very quickly. She spent the last few years of her life in poor health unable to take care of herself. Elfrida passed away in 1943. After His wife passed Walter lived in the Chapel House, in Twickenham, London, England. The same place that Alfred Lord Tennyson once lived. De la Mare suffered from a coronary thrombosis in 1947 and another in 1956. The last episode left him bedridden and under the care of a nurse. Walter de la Mare died on June 22, 1956.
When the Rose is Faded
by Walter de la Mare
When the rose is faded,
Memory may still dwell on
Her beauty shadowed,
And the sweet smell gone.
That vanishing loveliness,
That burdening breath,
No bond of life hath then,
Nor grief of death.
'Tis the immortal thought
Whose passion still
Makes the changing
The unchangeable.
Oh, thus thy beauty,
Loveliest on earth to me,
Dark with no sorrow, shines
And burns, with thee.
Fare Well
by Walter de la Mare
When I lie where shades of darkness
Shall no more assail mine eyes,
Nor the rain make lamentation
When the wind sighs;
How will fare the world whose wonder
Was the very proof of me?
Memory fades, must the remembered
Perishing be?
Oh, when this my dust surrenders
Hand, foot, lip, to dust again,
May these loved and loving faces
Please other men!
May the rusting harvest hedgerow
Still the Traveller's Joy entwine,
And as happy children gather
Posies once mine.
Look thy last on all things lovely,
Every hour. Let no night
Seal thy sense in deathly slumber
Till to delight
Thou have paid thy utmost blessing;
Since that all things thou wouldst praise
Beauty took from those who loved them
In other days.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
The guttural rage she spat,
Unrelenting.
The screaming in my head,
Resenting.
Bitter wounds inflicted,
Emotionally.
Left numb in the darkness,
No functionality.
Media warns of friends who turn,
Who savage you.
Those you’ve known for years,
There is no clue.
She’s not the one you’ve always known,
Unpredictable.
Travelled to a foreign place,
Becoming vulnerable
To a vicious tongue.
A cruel twist
Of behaviour, kept fear in
Like a fist.
No violence needed
Just a look
One ugly night
Was all it took.
Relief runs through me now.
Home comforts
Surround my damaged mind.
Shame works
Into the heart of who I am,
Manipulated
Always avoided, yet became
Entangled
In a web of lies and tricks,
Coerced.
Bullied, yes, but not beaten
Now, re-fired
Like a Phoenix rising,
Alive again.
Mental healing, faster,
Against the pain
Honorable mention:
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Good luck to all 
