At the edge of town
All sound is drowned
By the wind and rain.
The Roman came
And wrote Rome’s name
Here in Britain.
Now I hear the same
Wind and rain.
At the Edge of Town
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Tag Archives: free verse
Temporary
On my way home
I passed by street lights
On a winter’s night
And thought of glorious Rome
As their temporary sparks
Held back the dark.
Tears, Idle Tears by Alfred Lord Tennison
Recently I enjoyed a meal with my friend Jeff, during which he quoted from Tennyson’s beautiful poem, “Tears, Idle Tears”. The poem resonates with me and is reproduced below:
“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken’d birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign’d
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.”
Now I Am Tired
Now I am tired
And think on love and lust.
All that is desired
Must end in naught but dust.
Birthday Snow
Today, on my birthday
I passed by a fallen tree
Being cleared away.
On my first birthday
The snow came.
I wonder, will it fall again
On the day
That I go away
When Seagulls Cry
When seagulls cry I
Feel the emptiness of eternity
In me.
I can not hide
From the all conquering sea.
Unwritten
A poet on his way
On a misty day
Across a road in Britain.
A poem goes unwritten.
Failure?
We passed by a tree
Brought down by the gale.
While others momentarily stood
In the ancient wood.
All things fail
And birds, unaware
Sing on with no care
For fallen trees or poetry.
Conversation with a Stranger
She was born in the year
I came here
To live and work.
She will thrive when time’s scythe
Has ended me.
I feel no jerk
Of sudden fear
Of the Reaper as he draws near.
I have felt lust
And feared dust.
But today I simply say my goodbye
And accept that I
Will, one day die.
The train moves on.
She is gone.
And I will do my work today.
Musings on a Bleak December Day
On a cold December day
I stop
And suddenly become
Aware of the ticking clock.
The sun
Hides it’s face.
It will rain again today.
I will embrace
Old Father Time in rhyme.
I grow older
And sense his great hand
Waiting to land
On my bowing shoulders.
I must try
Not to waste time.
For the clock
Will, one day, … stop
K Morris - Poet 