Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Carl Sandburg (January 6, 1878 – July 22, 1967)
6 Jan
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Posted by bennythomas on January 6, 2011 at 5:45 pm
Hello,
Sandburg’s poem made me come up with this.“A Pioneer I am not”-
Through a little fog that
Masked my fears
The city as lost- so seemed to me
beamed a code
Long, short, long:
‘get lost bud!’
Even as the fog lifted
I knew it well
Lost Atlantis lay at my feet.
But sum of all my fears
Like a purring cat
Had me to my old haunts turn.
Benny.
I have a blog with a similar theme http://byronin.wordpress.com
Posted by Madame Vauquer on January 6, 2011 at 7:53 pm
Cool, Benny.
I can’t seem to get to your byronin blog just now. My Internet connection is going at the speed of molasses.
Posted by bennythomas on January 6, 2011 at 8:52 pm
Speed of molasses? beautifully expressed!
benny
Posted by Madame Vauquer on January 6, 2011 at 8:20 pm
Got there this time.
“A Cruel Joke” is my favorite so far.
http://byronin.wordpress.com/2011/01/04/a-cruel-joke/
Posted by dragonflyy419 on March 5, 2011 at 6:23 pm
That photo and poem go so well together … eerie and beautiful.
Posted by Madame Vauquer on March 5, 2011 at 6:35 pm
Thank you! It took ages to find. I wanted to post something in remembrance of Sandburg’s birthday.
Posted by SilverSeason on March 7, 2011 at 2:23 pm
My mother read me this poem when I was quite young. It is one of the first poems I remember that got beyond Jack and Jill. I did actually get it — that fog and the stealthy motion of a cat are somehow related. Thanks for reminding me of that.
Posted by Madame Vauquer on March 7, 2011 at 9:23 pm
You’re welcome. I’ve always loved it.