Oh churchyard tree
You will outlast me
And your branches provide shade
To lad and maid,
Though I go below.
Yet, in the end,
My churchyard friend,
Thee and me
Having our lives run
Must both succumb
To mortality.
On a cold December evening
I heard
A solitary bird
And sought for meaning
In her song of joy and pain.
Doubtless, I shall do so again
For ’tis easy to see poetry,
Though she, sings not for humanity.
In this old, familiar wood
I take my hood
Down, just
In time for the rain.
I shall not put it up again.
Thoughts of lust,
Of lost love,
And friendship I shall retain,
For a while. But this wood
And the rain,
Shall remain.
To flowers that, in springtime
Bud,
Would that I could
By this rhyme,
Spoken
By me,
Cause thee
To open.
But thine sweet scent,
Would soon be spent.
An autumn bird
I heard
Sing
Ere the sky
Grew bright,
And I
Thought of spring,
And eternal night.
I smell the decay
On an autumn day.
I shall rhyme
For a time,
For fallen leaves
Do not deceive.
Here are three poems ‘Autumn’, ‘Autumn Fly’ and ‘Bush in the Rain’ read by me. The poems are illustrated by photographs of the autumn woods, taken by my friend Shanelle.
BUSH IN THE RAIN
AUTUMN
AUTUMN FLY
