Tag Archives: nature poems

A Poem from “Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology 2019/2020”

The below poem, “Fine Rain”, is 1 of 12 poems by me which appears in “Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology 2019/2020”:

I get wet
By this fine
Rain.
Yet,
I do not regret
For the divine
Is in the rain.

I shall get wet
Again
For when
Death does steal
Me away.
I regret
That I shall no longer feel,
The joy of a rainy day.

(“Croydon Poetry Hour Anthology 2019/2020” can be found here, https://www.lulu.com/en/gb/shop/croydon-poets/croydon-poetry-hour-anthology-201920/paperback/product-rjpqzd.html

Under Nature’s Great Roof

Under nature’s great roof
I feel the truth
In wind and rain.

When I am gone
I shall be one
With wind and rain.

Autumn Thoughts

In autumn, I recollect
How I would collect
The Autumn’s fall.
From the forest’s floor.
How many more
Shall I recall?

K Morris reading his poem ‘I Heard Leaves Fall’.

K Morris reading his poem ‘I Heard Leaves Fall’.

I Heard Leaves Fall

I heard
Leaves fall.
Then, a solitary bird
Did call,
As I stood
In Autumn’s wood.
And I did comprehend,
Beauty, and a friend.

My Guest Post on Lucy’s Works – How Spa Wood Influences My Poetry

My sincere thanks to Lucy for hosting me on her excellent website. For my guest post, in which I discuss how Spa Wood (and nature more generally) influences my writing, please visit here, https://wp.me/pawefW-1T5.

Rain

I have long been a lover of the rain. It refreshes hot dirty streets and reinvigorates the seemingly dead vegetation.

The below poem came to me as I lay in bed listening to the rain drumming on my window pane. It can be found in my “Selected Poems”, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WW8WXPP/.

Birds in a Tree

In spring
I heard
Birds sing
With such ecstacy
In a tree,
As I did pass
Along the woodland path.

They sang not For me.
Yet it filled my heart,
And I almost forgot
My art
In their, unconscious poetry.

How Sweet And Sad Was The Bird I Heard

How sweet and sad was the bird
I heard
As I stood at my open window.

When I go
To the pub to meet my friends,
We will pretend
That there is no end,
Or at least hide for a while
In the smile
Produced by drink,
Which makes men think
That all,
This will last.

But, I shall recollect the bird’s call,
As I stood at my open window
And know
That all
That sings, must pass.