When I last passed
This way
I recall no wall
Of wild wet flowers.
That bloom
In May
In the summertime
Flowers will bloom
Still. But in wintertime
Who will recall
This rain-kissed wall
Of springtime and rhyme.
When I last passed
This way
I recall no wall
Of wild wet flowers.
That bloom
In May
In the summertime
Flowers will bloom
Still. But in wintertime
Who will recall
This rain-kissed wall
Of springtime and rhyme.
On leaving
The half-empty pub On a spring Evening, I heard birdsong. I love These chill Nights , when the trill Of birds is heard On the still Street. Their unconscious art Calls to my sad Glad heart. It was always so. And I know Their song will remain Until I gain The churchyard path Where all must pass.
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Under spring sky
I touched blossom
Temporary as I.
This little March snow
Soon must go.
And spring birds sing
Over tombs.
These trees
Speak to me
Of mortality.
Touching old bark
And cold gravestone,
I hark
To the birds
Still heard
By me.
I often find
The fox’s bark
Fills my mind.
How fast the light
Fades in woodland glades
And becomes the dark
Of suffocating night.
In the park
Where children play
His cold, sharp bark
Seems to say
You spend your day
In the sun
But the night
Blots out light
And your day
Is done.
(The final stanza is very long compared to the first 2 and I am not sure how the poem hangs together. Would welcome the views of my readers. Thanks. Kevin).
In the wood
My dog chased
A squirrel.
No thought of good
Or bad
Had he,
For he was free
Of morality.
In my mind
I often find,
Squirreled away
A thought
I ought
Not to think
Of play
With prey.
On 3 December, I published this poem, https://kmorrispoet.com/2022/12/03/i-passed-a-log/. Below is a slightly reworked version of my composition entitled A Fallen Tree:
A fallen tree
Spoke to me
On a
December day.
Once it stood
In ancient wood.
Now I
Pass by
As December grows colder
And I ever older.
Walking through fallen leaves
In the familiar churchyard
The poet sees
The hard
Fact that all
Leaves fall.
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.