Tag Archives: free verse

An Autumn Day (1 November 2022)

Damp leaves in cold park.

Autumn days are growing dark.

The wind whistled

In the churchyard.

Then the rain came again.

Poetry in Rain

Listening to rain

While reading poetry.

But why read poetry

When there is rain?

For there is poetry

In the rain.

 

 

Reading Clare

While listening to rain.

But why read Clare

For there

Is poetry in rain?

 

(The above is 2 versions of the same, maybe similar poem. The poem flows from me listening to the rain through my open bedroom window yesterday evening, while reading the poetry of John Clare).

Into “The Waste Land”, an Examination of TS Eliot’s Poem

I spent part of yesterday afternoon watching Into “The Wasteland” on the BBC Iplayer. The programme examines TS Eliot’s poem “The Wasteland”, arguing that much of the poem stems from the poet’s personal life, particularly his experiences with women and his nervous breakdown.

 

You can watch the programme here, https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001d1yy#:~:text=An%20exploration%20of%20TS%20Eliot’s,20th%20century%2C%20The%20Waste%20Land. In order to do so you will need to have (or create) an account with the BBC Iplayer and click to confirm that you have a TV license. It is my understanding is that only those resident in the United Kingdom are able to avail themselves of the BBC Iplayer, so my apologies to those of my readers based outside of the UK.

I Enter the Graveyard

I enter the graveyard

Where men forget regret

While the living

Forget their eternal

Bed is made

In waiting grave

 

And choose to lose

Their day

In play

With technology,

Which makes none free

Of the eternal grave.

Commuter Train

I sat alone

On a train

In early morning.

When a young woman on her phone

Said, “are you still with your friend?”

 

 

The memory remains.

A couple yawning

In early morning.

And 2 strangers on a commuter train.

After Death

I pass by graves

On a rain soaked day.

I know those below

Do not regret the wet.

 

 

I relish the fresh

Scents of this passing day

For after my death

I will know

No rain below.

Progress

Leaves turn brown

‘Ere they fall

To waiting ground.

 

 

I heard

A bird’s

Alarm call.

 

Autumn will become

Winter. The sun

Will burn out.

 

 

Some still shout

Of human progress

While leaves fall.

On Hearing Birdsong

On hearing birdsong

I am glad

That I am here

To hear

Their sad, glad song.

 

 

We die

And our love

Dies with us.

 

 

No, it lives on

When we are gone

In those we love.

 

 

And the birds

Sing on

With no care

For where

We have gone.

 

Early Autumn Morning

In the early morning

Few birds I heard.

In the distance

Vehicles passed by.

 

 

On such autumn mornings

I have no resistance

To thoughts of mortality.

 

 

But half dark

Turns to light

And I must

Shake off dust.

 

 

But autumn

Must come

And leaves fall.