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Mad for Poetry

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad for life, mad for talking, mad for poetry.

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Author: Samantha Evans

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Thora�s Song – (�Ashtaroth�) By Adam Lindsay Gordon

 We severed in autumn early,    Ere the earth was torn by the plough;    The wheat and the oats and the barley    Are ripe for the harvest now.    We sunder�d…

October 1, 2019
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Thick-headed Thoughts By Adam Lindsay Gordon

No. I     I�ve something of the bull-dog in my breed,    The spaniel is developed somewhat less;    While life is in me I can fight and bleed,    But never…

October 1, 2019
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The Three Friends By Adam Lindsay Gordon

    The sword slew one in deadly strife;    One perish�d by the bowl;    The third lies self-slain by the knife;    For three the bells may toll,    I loved her better…

October 1, 2019
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The Swimmer By Adam Lindsay Gordon

   With short, sharp, violent lights made vivid,    To southward far as the sight can roam,    Only the swirl of the surges livid,    The seas that climb and the…

October 1, 2019
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The Song Of The Surf By Adam Lindsay Gordon

    White steeds of ocean, that leap with a hollow and wearisome roar    On the bar of ironstone steep, not a fathom�s length from the shore,    Is there…

October 1, 2019
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The Sick Stockrider By Adam Lindsay Gordon

    Hold hard, Ned! Lift me down once more, and lay me in the shade.    Old man, you�ve had your work cut out to guide    Both horses, and…

October 1, 2019
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The Romance Of Britomarte By Adam Lindsay Gordon

As related by Sergeant Leigh on the night he got his captaincy at the Restoration.     I�ll tell you a story; but pass the �jack�,    And let…

October 1, 2019
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The Roll Of The Kettledrum; or, The Lay Of The Last Charger By Adam Lindsay Gordon

�You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,    Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?    Of two such lessons, why forget    The nobler and the manlier one?�     –    Byron.     One line of…

October 1, 2019
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The Rhyme Of Joyous Garde By Adam Lindsay Gordon

    Through the lattice rushes the south wind, dense    With fumes of the flowery frankincense    From hawthorn blossoming thickly;    And gold is shower�d on grass unshorn,    And poppy-fire on shuddering…

October 1, 2019
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The Race By Adam Lindsay Gordon

   On the hill they are crowding together,    In the stand they are crushing for room,    Like midge-flies they swarm on the heather,    They gather like bees on the…

October 1, 2019

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Mad For Poetry

Mad For Poetry

Poesia Poetry Journal! Have a Read.

  • Issue #1 – Mad for Poetry / Pazzi per la Poesia

Mad for Poetry

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