Juggling the Moon

... or The Gravity of a Cherry Tree's Branch.

... rolling down

Between the Moons

The poetry of earth is never dead:

This does not lack of correctness, Mr Keats.

How cometh?

Poets who took their dwelling six feet under centuries ago, wouldn't write poems, hm?

They have written them. Great poems amongst. Yes. Great poetry.

And, centuries later, generations later still there are people who admire those dead poets' skills, their depth & wisdom, their humour & prudence.

Right so.

And nice. Especially for publishers.
No copyright (owner).
Dead poets wouldn't claim royalties, hm?
All one has to do is to keep them alive - the Novalis, Emerson, Homer, Rumi, Hafis, Dafydd ap Gwilym, Petrarca, Byron, Shelley [did I forget to mention any? ha ha ha].
Great poetry. And cheap, hm?!

Yes.

I confess:

The authors of the vast majority of books in my shelves are dead.

Strange, isn't it? :) Hm ...

The more glad I am that once - about two years ago by clicking a link I stumbled upon or - is it more precise to write? - let myself stumble upon a living poet. :)

My first reaction: Interesting.

With hindsight, interesting too: Reading the comments (Oh, this is absolutely gorgeous; ah, so wonderful; ah ... oh ... uh ) let me think of followers worshipping their guru, and thus it needed another coincidence (?) to visit this very blog again, seven or ten months later.

And - step by step - haiga by taiga this ignoramus got more intrigued.

Yes. :)

Sometimes I'd (even) leave a comment.

And yes:

I'd always leave a comment (since) were I able to perpetually invent new superlatives. :)

[Did I ever mention I do not like superlatives? ... Well, when willfully exaggerating ... ]

Come to your mission! I hear some readers think.

Alright! Here we go.
Those who'd know my sidebar will anyway know.

Know that I can't get enough of her (poetry). :)

In case you did not know Janice Thomson, yet, voilà, form your opinion here and here and here.

And? ... Good, hm?

Now, like the hunchbacked and :) dead genius I could say/write:

If you own two trousers
sell one, and
buy this book.

Nah!
Wait!
Check your wardrobe! Certainly, there are some more trousers (or skirts) you would not miss when being sold.
Sell them all. Order several books. They'll make some exquisite poetic gifts.
Where to order your books? Here.

And then - enjoy.
Afterwards, I am - almost :) - sure, like me you will be looking forward to Volume II by this very vivid poet / painter / photographer.