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.