Come Halloween, I shall hide behind gravestones
And rattle artificial bones,
And should anyone ask
Why I perform this task
I shall with a blood curdling groan
Confess That I have no bones of my own …
Come Halloween
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How to Fill Your Day with Poetry
There Was A Young Lady Named Mable
There was a young lady named Mable
Who danced on a rickety old table.
The furniture gave way
And I heard her say,
“I was willing, but that table is unstable!”.
—
There was a young lady named Mable
Who danced on a rickety old table.
The furniture gave way,
But some do say
That my story is nought but a fable!
The River Has Burst It’s Banks More Times Than I Can Remember
The river has burst it’s banks more times than I can remember.
Another swan
Is gone,
But I find
That she has left a black feather behind.
In summer weather
I relish the scent
Of the heather.
Come November
I repent,
But why?
For I
Did pave the path
To the cavern where my demons laugh.
Goldfish Bowl
As a child, I had a round Goldfish bowl.
The fish their whole
Lives spent
(I thought content)
Swimming in never ending circles in that plastic tank.
The frank
Man or woman may
Perhaps smile ruefully and say
“I have spent a day
Or more in that self-same way,
But at some future time I will
Be still”.
I have Always Walked In The Dark
I have always walked in the dark.
The torch’s light
Illumines the night
But can not fight
With phantoms stark.
I have always walked in the dark.
I have always walked in the dark.
A knock at night
May bring delight,
But then we part.
I have always walked in the dark.
I have always walked in the dark.
The moon disappears
And yesteryear’s fears
Emerge
And converge in my heart.
I have always walked in the dark.
10 of the Best Poems about Solitude and Loneliness
The greatest poems about being alone
The poet’s life is often viewed as a lonely one – starving in garrets, pining away for lost loves, moping about the streets of the city looking for Baudelaire-style inspiration – so it should come as little surprise that there have been many classic poems written about solitude and loneliness. Here are ten of our favourite poems about isolation and being alone.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 29. One of the most famous sonnets written by Shakespeare, this one contains the line ‘I all alone beweep my outcast state’, thus casting the poet as both solitary and shunned. But there is hope for him as he reflects on the love of the Fair Youth with whom he appears (in the sequence as it unfolds) to be in a burgeoning relationship…
Alexander Pope, ‘Ode on Solitude’. The most remarkable thing about this poem…
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“The Old Clock On The Stairs” By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am, as those of you who follow this blog will know, interested in clocks and what they represent (I.E. Old Father Time himself, with his sickle chopping up seconds).
Yesterday I happened across Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Old Clock On The Stairs” (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44643/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs). In his poem Longfellow describes a clock that ticks away in a mansion. Time passes never to return and the people observed by this timepiece are now dead or gone elsewhere leaving the clock telling time in the empty house.
My own work contains several poems which deal with the passing of time, including one simply entitled “Time” which runs thus:
“The reaper moves
In time with the pendulum.
No rush
Or fuss
He has plenty of time.
My patient friend
whose tick portends
my inevitable end.
You rest in state
on my bookcase.
Tick tock
I can not stop
time’s sithe.
None can survive
his cut.
Though in a cupboard my clock be shut
death can not be put
aside
The sickle chops
And the heart will, one day, stop”.
(“Time” can be found in “Lost in the Labyrinth Of My Mind”, which is available from Moyhill Publishing (http://moyhill.com/lost/) and Amazon (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01AF5EPVY).
My latest collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind” is also available from Moyhill Publishing and can be found here (http://moyhill.com/clock/). “My Old Clock” can also be downloaded in the Amazon Kindle store (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0735JBVBG).
Well, that was summer…
A great description of the English weather and the wildlife in my frien John’s garden. I also have foxes as visitors in my garden in Upper Norwood, together with an owl (or owls) who visit from time to time.
I wrote the following blog back in early June just after a long spell of warm weather had ended in typical British weather style with heavy rain and I was reflecting on how changeable our weather really is. Unfortunately, I never got to publish it or indeed any subsequent articles owing to being particularly busy of late.
Having just stumbled upon the draft for the first time in a while, it strikes me whilst reading it that the title and overall theme of that draft could equally apply to now, for as we enter August, typically one of the driest and hottest of monthes there appears nothing but clouds and more rain on the horizon.
I’m therefore posting this article now (trusting to the maxim ‘better late than never’) and I hope you enjoy my musings on British weather and the wildlife in my garden…
They say that a week…
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If I Told You What I Dream
If I told you what I dream
You would move the conversation on to the weather
Or any subject but that
Of which I dream.
But why so?
For you know
That every man has his craze,
The secret fire that does blaze within.
Some are driven mad
And are almost glad
To give in
And sin.
