JCpoetryblog

Our house in West Hobart had a flat underneath and, when we bought the house, the flat was occupied by an American woman called Kitty Madison.  She was a very interesting lady, apparently unemployed and she spent her time writing poetry. Marilyn's father spent a few months with us to help us put the garden in order and he and Kitty used to enjoy morning tea together on the back deck swapping stories. Bill, of course, came from a literary family, both his parents being published authors. This poem was written at Christmas 1985 to remember the loss of our cat, Angelique. ANGELIQUE Penetrating, blue-eyed seer of mysteries carried through genetic memory. Adventurer, climber of rooftops and tearing holly branches, hunter crouched for the kill misled by a swaying leaf. Companion, foot warmer, sweet little chatterer, held close, now in remembrance. Amidst the fragrance of mint and cress you are taking your long nap curled up in God's enfolding lap.

The Highwayman sticks in my mind for the metaphor 'the moon is a ghostly galleon'.  It's probably the first time I had recognised the power of this literary device and it is still the first example which comes to my mind when 'metaphor' is mentioned. I have only enclosed the first part of the poem; if you want to know how the story ends,. you will have to look it up. THE HIGHWAYMAN        by Alfred Noyes The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.    The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.    The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,    And the highwayman came riding—          Riding—riding— The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door. He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,    A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-ski...