Poems and Verse from the Hearth


"Poetry is the mother tongue of mankind." ~~J.G.Hamann, 1762



"A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own
solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody
of an unseen musician..." ~~ Percy Bysshe Shelley


An appreciation for poetry is not something tacked onto my life like hand-scrawled announcements on a bulletin board. I come by it honestly; it is in my blood. My grandmother wrote poetry, influenced in that direction by her uncle John S. Hall. John Hall, the youngest of five boys, was left blind after the Civil War, whereupon he pursued a life of writing, founding two newspapers, the St. Mary's Observer and the Oracle, before retiring to private life. His book of poems, "Musings of a Quiet Hour", was published in 1907. I have been told that through this lineage flows the blood of Robert Burns, the famed Scot Highlander and literary luminary.

None of this means that the poems I have written are any good, or will have historical merit. It is simply an acknowledgement of my roots.

I do hope, however, that if you should take a few moments to sit here by my cyber-fireside and enjoy the warmth from my offered embers, you will also take a moment to send an email that I might know you have been my guest. And thanks for the visit.


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