To celebrate National Poetry Day, (which took place on 28 September), BBC local radio commissioned 12 poets from across England to write a poem incorporating a local word. To be frank some of these poems left me cold. I was, however rather taken with “Twittens”. To read the 12 poems please visit http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/4jjwQBspBn4NLRyB53d0dnJ/national-poetry-day-free-the-word.
Below are 2 poems which are taken from my collection of poetry and prose, “Dalliance”, which was published in 2014. The first poem is entitled “Fire” and the second “Midnight”.
—
“I have felt the fire’s power;
It kindles brightly and sinks within the hour.
I have watched the embers dying fast;
Looked into the future and gazed into the past.
I have raked the ashes cold, felt the bleakness in my soul”.
—
“Midnight, black as pitch.
No scheming demon, ghost, nor witch.
Only the darkness, which in the human heart resides, manifests itself in cruelty and pride”.
—
There was a young lady called Lou
Who fell into a vat of glue.
A handsome young doctor named Shane
Said “I share all your pain
For I am in love with you!”.
I heard
An Autumn bird
Sing to me
From a tree,
As I took
A short-cut
Through the grounds
Of the doctor’s surgery.
On such a day, when the winter sun
Casts my shadow upon yonder wall,
It is difficult to recall
That all
This will, one day, be done.
In future, will some other one, sitting here and seeing their shadow fall
Upon this self-same wall,
Know that they may not forestall
The night
Where dancing shadows are forever lost from sight.
—
(Written on 3 December 2016, while sitting in my study).
—
(Note: “Shadows” can be found in my latest collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”, which is available from Amazon, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0735JBVBG and from Moyhill Publishing, http://moyhill.com/clock/).
There was a young man named Meek
Who’s view of the world was bleak.
When I bought him a beer
He said “the world is so drear,
I shall drink for the rest of the week!”
There was a young authoress named Leigh
Who said “my writing shall survive me”.
She died one midnight drear
(Twas the middle of the year),
And was buried by critics three!
The heels are gone
Yet her scent lingers on.
Delicate fingers
Strummed a tune
That was over all too soon.
There were 2 heads
Laid upon my bed,
Now there is but one
Yet her scent lingers on.
Perfume fades over time
Until all scent is gone
But recollection of heels and fingers
Lingers
On in rhyme.
I found Venus in my bed.
Well that was her name she said
And I
Can not believe that a goddess would lie …
An autumn girl.
Falling leaves whirl.
Trees naked stand
Their branches reaching for the great sky
And I.
