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Reposted by Paul Glover

Tibor M. Kalman

@kalmantibs.bsky.social

Anders Andersen-Lundby, Danish painter, 1841-1923.
Winter Evening, 1886.
Oil on canvas.
Private collection.

🙏🏼🌍🕊️

📷 Painting and Fine Arts

February 17, 2026 at 7:07 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Spring is coming - the crocuses (croci) are out in the prairie behind my home 😀

A single open crocus flower. Mauve withorange pistyl and yellow stamens.

A carpet of croci around a tree in the sun.

February 17, 2026 at 9:00 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

I was listening to music by John Dowland while in the company of someone knitting, unknotting and cursing the loss of needles. It struck me that the dour ideas of Dowland would go well with the stresses of knitting angst, so I wrote this galliard! #Dowland #Knitting @knittingcultlady.bsky.social

Knots, Wool and Loss

[Strain 1]
Now trip, light Time, and laugh with nimble feet,
Though wool lies crossed in merry disarray.
What once did fret now dares my hands to meet,
For knots may yield as dancers skip their way.

[Refrain 1]
Pull not in wrath, my dear, but with careful cheer,
The thread will run when force doth disappear.

[Strain 2]
O roving skein, thou art a cunning thing,
That feign’st a snare yet mean’st a playful test.
I chase, I pause, I circle, tug, and sing,
Till tangled care grows lighter in my breast.

[Refrain 2]
Thus, joy is found where once I named it pain,
And wit unties what sorrow bound in vain.

[Strain 3]
But stay—where hide my needles, swift and slim?
Those dancing sparks of steel now fled my sight.
Beneath the chair? The sleeve? The daylight dim?
They mock my search and vanish out of spite.

[Refrain 3]
Come back, bright friends, and end this merry chase—
No galliard runs aright without your grace.

Paul Glover with apologies to John Dowland
12/02/2026

February 16, 2026 at 6:13 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

And perhaps my first proper poem of 2026. I wanted to explore the idea of the grass is greener and dissatisfaction with life - an idea put in my mind by one of my students. The full poem at larger font size in in the alt text. #grassisgreener

Greener

We peer beyond the fence and swear it’s greener there,
our days feel dull, our patched-up hopes o'ergrown.
We trade the soil we tend, familiar and our own
for distant fields that gleam in borrowed air.
Yet step across and watch the shine turn light,
each meadow learns the cost of sun and rain.
Green comes from care, from patience, loss, and strain,
This grass was greener only from our sight.

And so, we stand becoming thus unsatisfied.

Once more, we peer beyond and swear it’s greener there.
Our weekdays blur beneath ambitions left ungrown.
We doubt the worth of paths already known
and crown the distant pasture brighter, so more fair.
We cross the line and watch shimmer lose its light,
each blade submits to seasons steeped in rain.
What thrives must drink from effort mixed with pain,
the glow was shaped by distance, not by sight.

And so, we stand becoming more unsatisfied.

Still farther on, we spy a strong virescent hue,
which ignites the heart with vows to start again,
we pack our faith in futures yet unseen, then
persuaded this horizon must be new,
we reach it breathless, certain of our just reward,
but feel familiar truths beneath the ground,
the same old hopes, the same persistent sound,
but we enjoy only greenness nurturing deserves.

And so, we stand becoming even more unsatisfied.

Beyond all this, a virid blaze as yet unseen
seems to outshine the rest, so achingly bright.
a final temptation that feels at last so right,
the lushest shade our restless eyes have seen.
We turn—and pause—no border now in view,
The fence long gone, the compass spun around,
our onward forging footprints now are threading back
to our first worn field and its once undervalued ground.

We leapt at last toward our fancied verdant dream,
but one’s dreams may not always be what they may seem,
then land—alas—boots sunk in fly-dressed cow mess,
the greener grass reveals its fragrant pedigree:
be content to find this earth, this grass, this unique lease.

February 7, 2026 at 10:23 AM

Reposted by Paul Glover

Emma Mitchell

@silverpebble2.bsky.social

Two important things:
1) after tomorrow the sun will not set before 5pm again in the UK…until October
2) if you’re struggling just now *please* be kind to yourself

February 5, 2026 at 9:47 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

I wrote this poem this morning as a sudden inspiration. It came in a matter of 90 seconds of writing, or should I say tapping, as it was written on a mobile ‘phone. Full poem also provided as alt text. @poetry-enthusiast.bsky.social @poetrydaily.bsky.social

Morning Inspiration?

On a Saturday morning in bed I will lie,
with sheets round my knees and a squint in my eye,
while the coffee reminds me that I am awake,
and a poem feels so very important to make.
With my book balanced wrong and my thumbs going numb,
I compose utter genius—or something quite dumb,
‘till I sit up too fast with a stretch and a yelp,
spill my drink on the verse and declare I need help!

Paul Glover 31/01/2026

February 6, 2026 at 4:37 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Here is a more serious poem – a metaphor for Life. Gosh, that sounds too heavy do you think? Nevertheless, I hope you like it. The full poem is also in the alt text. @poetrysociety.org.uk @poetry-enthusiast.bsky.social

The Wall

Brick upon brick, our wall begins to rise,
each stone a trial, each mortar mixed with care,
through fleeting years beneath the changing skies,
we shape our rampart, proud and strong and fair.
Yet first the ground must hold a steadfast frame,
Those earliest bricks—our kin, our childhood friends;
They bear the weight when tempests roar and flame,
Their strength the root on which all growth depends.
Some bricks are gold—those souls who stand and stay,
while others, common clay, still hold their place.
Events and storms may stain the bright array,
yet still the structure towers with steadfast grace.

But time, relentless, steals what once was sure;
the oldest stones, the roots of all we’ve known;
their absence leaves a hollow, hard to cure,
A silent ache within the heart of stone.
Yet though the wall may falter, gaps appear,
Its strength was built on love, and love stays near.

Paul Glover, 19.12.2025, Malton

February 6, 2026 at 4:31 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

I have not posted a new poem for well over a month, and there is a backlog. So here is the first of clutch of poems, a confection of poems or perhaps a murmur of poems. Most can be found at paulglover.uk #womensfootball #football @womensfootball.bsky.social @womensfootiemag.bsky.social

February 6, 2026 at 7:56 AM

Reposted by Paul Glover

Tibor M. Kalman

@kalmantibs.bsky.social

Lionel Walden, American painter, 1861-1933.
Les Docks de Cardiff, 1894.
Oil on canvas.

🙏🏼🌎🕊️

📷 Musée d’Orsay, Paris | Painting and Fine Arts

January 17, 2026 at 4:33 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

...and after the arraying. My daughter is home and all is at peace, almost.

December 24, 2025 at 7:40 AM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Family tradition is that the tree gets decorated late. Here are some before the arraying - each woth a memory.

December 23, 2025 at 2:28 PM

Reposted by Paul Glover

Journal of Art in Society

@artinsociety.bsky.social

Hilda Rix Nicholas pursued a successful & varied art career in London, France & Morocco before returning to paint in Australia. She lost her husband, mother & sister during WW1. Here, the intriguing Les Fleurs Dédaignées ■ The Summer House

Young woman, in elaborate floral dress, looks coolly to the side

In a latticed summer house, two women relax, one reading a newspaper

December 22, 2025 at 7:04 AM

Reposted by Paul Glover

Prof Paul Glover

@profpaulglover.bsky.social

Thanks to iunify on Instagram @physics.bsky.social @physicsmagazine.bsky.social @earthandenvleeds.bsky.social @physicsleedsuni.bsky.social

December 19, 2025 at 6:11 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Well, Rebecca, Wow!! Sometimes the muse trumps time. @drrjwarren.bsky.social

Dr Rebecca Warren @drrjwarren.bsky.social · Dec 18

#ArtDD2025
Female pintail

Only had 20 mins between getting in and going out this evening, but here it is, for #ArtAdventCalendar Day 18

From a 📷 by @klausbusse.de with thanks.

@saocousins.bsky.social @holnicotenh.bsky.social @andykaitken.bsky.social @stevecobbin.bsky.social @indikon.bsky.social

Watercolour of duck on one leg, looking to left but facing viewer, in smudgy browns and greys.

December 19, 2025 at 9:32 PM

Reposted by Paul Glover

Tom Gauld

@tomgauld.bsky.social

Generate a heartwarming advert for your bookshop:

Title: Heartwarming christmas television advert plot generator for bookshops.

(choose one from each column to come up with a sentence)

Choices in column 1:
A lonely
A grumpy
A workaholic
An elderly
A poor

Column 2:
Book Shop Owner Learns The True Meaning Of

Column 3:
Literature
Christmas
Community
Wealth
Friendship

Column 4:
With help from a

Column 5:
Wise
Celebrity
Magical
Kindly
Clumsy

Column 6:
Child
Mouse
Parsnip
Snowman
Ghost

Additional text below:
Just add: twinkly music, wooly jumpers, computer-generated snow, poetry, bells.

December 15, 2025 at 2:29 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Chriatmas is coming. Even the windows of York's best ballet dance shop, Fancy Dance, are joining the spirit. @northernballet.bsky.social @nycballet.bsky.social #fancydance

December 17, 2025 at 7:25 AM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Someone just asked me to tepost the original 'In the beginning' poem from 2 years ago...so here it is. @onlypoemsmag.bsky.social @poetrywithlinda.bsky.social @ofpoetrypodcast.bsky.social

December 16, 2025 at 8:57 AM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

And continuing the theme, here is another poem on beginnings an this time, MS Word! @onlypoemsmag.bsky.social @poetrywithlinda.bsky.social @ofpoetrypodcast.bsky.social

December 16, 2025 at 8:54 AM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Here is a new twist on the "In the beginning" theme. Pls see paulglover.uk for details. @onlypoemsmag.bsky.social @poetrywithlinda.bsky.social @ofpoetrypodcast.bsky.social

December 16, 2025 at 8:49 AM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

Just a reminder for those who like poetry and art and some music to visit my sites at paulglover.uk and soundcloud.com/p-w-j-glover for recent updates and an archive of poems, paintings and songs. @poetrywithlinda.bsky.social @waterstones.bsky.social @number10cat.bsky.social

December 15, 2025 at 5:28 PM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

I painted a Red Kite, and felt the breeze in my feathers, and imagined myself as a Kite conversing with the breeze in pirouettes and playful dances. A poem was bound to come, and did. It came in the form of a Sonnet. @birdsoftheworld.bsky.social @birdpainter67.bsky.social @birdpainter.bsky.social

December 8, 2025 at 9:06 AM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

I think Red Kites are wonderful things, and we have lots of them here in North Yorkshire. Bored of cats (if ever), I decided to paint one. I wrote a poem too and will post that soon. #redkites www.paulglover.uk @birdsoftheworld.bsky.social @birdpainter67.bsky.social @birdpainter.bsky.social

December 8, 2025 at 9:01 AM

Paul Glover

@paulglover.bsky.social

And the last of the three cats, is Panda, short for Pandaemonium. She is the cat who got the cream, & the fish supper & her paws in the jam. Panda is the born climber who cannot climb and certainly cannot land. Panda is the one whose mews all mean “Was that really me?” @poorlycatdraw.bsky.social