Poetry from one quaintrelle to another…

Written By Georgia Wilce

Alchemy by Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
Altho' it holds but pain.

For I shall learn from flower and leaf
That colour every drop they hold,
To change the lifeless wine of grief
To living gold.

The History of Violets by Marosa Di Giorgio (1965)

I remember nightfall and your rooms open door, the door through which neighbours and angles came in. And the clouds - November evening clouds, drifting in circles over the land. The little trees burdened with jasmine, with doves and droplets of water. That joyous pearling endless chirping - every evening the same.

And the next morning, with its tiny dead angles strewn everywhere like paper birds, or the most exquisite of eggshells.

Your dazzling death.












Night by Anne Bronte (1820-49)

I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes.

And then a voice may meet my ear,
That death has silenced long ago;
And hope and rapture may appear
Instead of solitude and woe.

Cold in the grave for years has lain
The form it was my bliss to see;
And only dreams can bring again,
The darling of my heart to me.

Baby I Don’t Care by Chelsey Minnis (2018)

I like to scream in a satin bed and get a baby bunny as a present. I can’t stop thinking of myself and what might be to my own advantage!

For example, I love to go to bed sober, which means I have to start drinking early.

Don’t keep saying “down the hatch” all night long. Something matters, but what is it? A window with a very long fall underneath? One time someone refused to give me a pink topaz and I fainted.

Let me be the first to pour your tears down the drain.

All artworks are by Andrea Zanatelli www.andreazanatelli.com



Izumi Shikibu (976AD)

In this world

love has no colour-

yet how deeply

my body

is stained by yours.






Chelsey Minnis (2018)

Im the kind of person who breaks heirloom ashtrays. Im the kind who whirls a jumbo globe. Have I said something awful? Why not? I like it when I have a bad idea. Why don’t you make me your beneficiary, darling?

Don’t throw the typewriter at me! I only sit on the arms of chairs. No one tells me to cheer up. I can give you more than a moments boredom. Then comes the dawn, but I don’t know what that means.







Georgia Wilce
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Florence Welch