Tag Archives: poetry

Out of Place

Leave a reply

I would
That this forest,
This little wood
In which I trace
The seasons slow pace
Could remain
The same.

Spring
Summer, autumn and winter does bring
A natural order to this changing thing
Which alters not, save in accordance with nature’s law.

The woodland floor
Is now with leaves strewn
But soon
Winter’s chill
Will
Lay an icey hand
Upon this land.

Yet it is not as before
As the forest floor
Is strewn with leaves in summers overly hot
For man has forgot
The natural order of things
And his action brings
The leaves too early down.

The town
It flows towards the countryside.
The urban tide
May rise
And sweep
That which I would keep
Away.

The planners say
“The people must have somewhere to stay.
We must build a little on the greenbelt
Where once the owl dwelt
In solitude.
We can not exclude
The young who need their own home”.

The squire has long since gone
And progress marches on.
There is nothing to hold
Dear but gold
And we are told
That we should “embrace
This marketplace
In all things, while the stupid left speak of an equality
Which can never be
For in this world of tears, we can not be
Both equal and free.

Sometimes I look back with nostalgia to the squire
And half desire
Him to rise
From his grave
And the country save
From this tide
Of progress
Where left and right contend
Over who can best defend
This sterile world of high tech screens,
While country scenes
Are lost, save in dreams.

There Was A Young Shopgirl Of Crystal Palace

2 Replies

There was a young shopgirl of Crystal Palace
Who was sometimes known as Alice.
On a day in November
Or was it December?
She left with the till for Dallas!

There Was A Young Lady Called Lou

Leave a reply

There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
She would walk around town
In the vicar’s dressing gown.
Believe me its perfectly true!

—

There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
As she walked down the street
In nought but her bare feet
The vicar he ran after Lou

—

There was a young lady called Lou
Who never wore a shoe.
As she strolled through the town
In the vicar’s dressing gown,
His wife she would run after Lou!

Call Girl

6 Replies

She arrives in heels and skirt
Or perchance
In jeans and t-shirt.
‘Tis the oldest dance
Which the ignorant call romance.

The CCTV
Does not see
The deals
She seals
In rooms where the lonely sit
Waiting for “their bit
Of fun”.

Perhaps she will leave with the morning sun,
Or be done
With a quick flick
Of her supple wrist, and depart in a cloud of scent
And with a click
Of heel, leaving him to smile
For a while
Or maybe repent
Of the money spent

There Was A Young Lady Called Lou

2 Replies

There was a young lady called Lou
Who starred in movies most blue.
A priest named Hocking
Found them most shocking.
As for me, I watched them too …!

—

A naughty young lady called Lou
Stars in movies most blue.
My old friend Mark
Says he walks in the park
But I think he watches them too.

 

Windswept

4 Replies

Windswept
He almost wept
At the impermanence of things.

Day brings
On the night.
Rome once shone bright.
Man’s desire
For empire
And a girl’s bright
Eyes
Soon dies.

This table
So stable
Must go.
The wind will blow
And snuff out the light
Bringing down the eternal
Night.

There is no fiend infernal
Just the knowledge that I
And all things will,
One day die.
Would that my mind
Could be still.

In humankind
We find
The wish to procreate,
Ere it is too late
And our candle dies.

Man sighs
In a girl’s arms.
The wind will blow.
Her charms
(And his) must go
But perchance
Passion’s dance
Will leave one behind
To walk on a windswept day
And know
That as the wind does blow
All this will pass away.