Sometimes I wish that “progress”
Would stop,
Like the express
Train at Adlestrop,
But it will not.
—
Note: The above was inspired by Edward Thomas’s fine poem, “Adlestrop”, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/53744/adlestrop
Sometimes I would
That the bud
Could stay
That way.
In spring
Birds sing
And buds, for an hour,
Flower.
All around
I hear
The sound
Of birds in the graveyard near
To my home.
As I walk alone,
Through this place of bone,
A thought profound,
“Those underground
Can not hear”.
In a vase you stay.
Soon you will be thrown away
In a bin.
How can I atone for the sin
Of removing you from nature’s embrace
To this urban place?
I sentimentalise its true
For you never knew
Nature’s embrace,
But doctored grew
In a place
Of glass
Where people pass
And say
“Customers will pay
Good money for that rose
But, I suppose
This other lot should be thrown away”.
‘Tis man who should count the cost
Of nature’s lost
Embrace
As we on keyboards clack
For we lack
The will
To stand still
And listen to the bird,
For the word
heard is “progress”, symbolised by
Doctored flowers, that in a vase, die.
Inocent as flowers
Girls build ivory towers.
They reach for the sun
Hoping for a prince to come,
A boy
Who will bring joy
And love,
And protect
Them from harm.
He shows respect.
His charm
Would disarm
The most protective of mothers.
Her brothers
Think him a great guy,
But I
Know how lovers Come
And go
And how quick the gentle sun
Can turn and burn
The flower
In it’s oh so fragile tower
Walking through the churchyard, as dusk fell, I heard the note of my old friend the owl. On reaching home I closed my bedroom window for it was a chilly evening. However, despite my double-glazing, the cold cry of the owl penetrated into my modern flat.
Ever since moving to the Upper Norwood area in late 1997, I have always been conscious of the owl. Sometimes he disappears for protracted periods but, as sure as eggs are eggs “the fatal bellman” reappears.
Hearing the owl reminds me of my poem which is, appropriately enough entitled “Owl”,
A bird,
At dusk I left
Singing in the darkening park.
I heard
As I walked away
His song,
And half longed to stay,
But left
My solitary friend
To wend
My way home
Alone, save for his evening hymn,
Which is now a part
Of my oh, so human, heart
On my way
Through the park today
I did
Snap a twig
And the wind said unto me,
“How easy ’tis, to break a twig,
Or tree”.
Me reading my poems ‘As You Pass’ and ‘Raining’ on Soundcloud.
When they say
“You must be in the progressive way”,
I shall talk
Of my walk
Of earlier today.
Of the wind’s dance,
And of more than one fallen branch.
K Morris - Poet 