Listlessly Listing Enlistments

Come December I will have been a proud blog owner for one whole year. I am incredibly thankful for all your support and inspirations and love. What an enlightening experience to shoot your thoughts out into the ether and actually get responses from others who do the exact same thing.

So, with almost 12 month under my belt I felt like it’s about time to look at last year’s dusty – nay – vintage baloneys.

I selected three poems for you. Plus, I’d like to add some actual poetry to this little list of mine. I hope you don’t mind me quoting someone who knew a thing or two about good writing. I hope you’ll enjoy. Have a wonderful Sunday wherever you are.

October Leaves in March

Tinker Tailor

The Tale of the Ice Princess and her Time at the Seaside



 SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.


Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.


Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

John Keats


2 thoughts on “Listlessly Listing Enlistments

  1. ‘I cannot be here anymore
    Where the shadows can think’
    What a perfect line Linda Catherine.
    It just sent shivers up my spine and put me in a place that comes quietly to us all at differing times.
    Congratulations on your anniversary, it is about the same for me so I share your satisfaction. Having good people at the other end of a blog is something that makes it all worthwhile.
    You have enlightened me with your words and your warmth.B

    1. Congrats B., on your anniversary also! It’s just like you put it, the people at the other end play such a big part in the whole ‘blogging experience’. So fantastic to be connected to wonderful people. Thank you 🙂

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