Emmonsail's Heath In Winter Comments

hang on little twigs and start again. this is the life and we have to pick up

Clare's life was tragic even by poet standards he followed the tradition of troubled souls who used the pen to escape the horrors of their mind. What I love about his nature poems is how he can fill every scene with naturalistic beauty with rich cascading language. I know I could never walk under moonlight glade and come up with what he came. His was a true passion for the world, even though it ate his being. A good work from a great man

The word love at the beginning is indicative. This lovely poem shows Clare's psychic downward trend. Out of the darkness of the soul soars the light.

I see the quagmire in the write. The evil crow in its flight.Frozen hedgehogs in the hedgerows.Then I hang my hat and start a party beside the trunk where the gypsy makes his bed. Certainly he was surely a dead head fan back in the day.

So, PH, why was my comment removed?

A model sonnet of poetic stuff about Natural vegetation in winter is good for reading pleasure rather than for ideas commendable!

I loved this poem although much of the descriptions I dont understand.But it is good poetry, the words are just old English descriptors, but lovely just the same

Mark, we should all be as idiotic.

I know I have just made an idiot of my self but at least I know good poetry when I read it that the only seed of comfort I have

Too good to only read on this site I hope you get published in the real world