Girls wise beyond their years.
Men who forget
regret, Then
do it all
Again
To forget.
And tears fall
On all
Girls Wise Beyond Their Years
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Tag Archives: poets
The Church Going Girl
The church going girl
May set the rake’s head in a whirl
And touch his heart
With her artless art.
He may amend his life
And take her to wife
For has the leopard not
The power to change his spot?
A Pretty Young Lady Named Hogg
A pretty young lady named Hogg
Owns a rather large dog.
When she comes round to mine
We drink fine wine
And then we walk the dog …
Happy New Year
I see Janus looking forward and back. I hope that 2019 sees the god of doorways smiling upon you.
With very best wishes – Kevin
A walk through Spa Woods
Earlier this afternoon I took a walk with my friend Shanelle through Spa Woods, which is situated some few minutes walk from my home. Prior to entering the woods, one comes across Tivoli Lodge, built in 1830 by Decimus Burton. Initially it served as the entrance lodge to Royal Beulah Spa and Pleasure Gardens, though the Spa has now been demolished.
Please see photos of our walk and the woods below:
Myself and Trigger outside of Tivoli Lodge.
Myself and Trigger outside of Tivoli Lodge, but with me smiling this time!
A close-up of one of the trees.
The trees along the path.
Close-up of a tree.
Myself and Trigger on the path.
Looking back, at the end of the path.
A number of my poems have been inspired by Spa Woods, including the below:
In the Woods Dark Heart
“In the wood’s dark heart,
The breeze,
Whispers in the trees,
Words that I cannot comprehend.
May God send
Me peace
And this breeze
Never cease.”
The above poem can be found in ‘The Writer’s Pen and other Poems’. You can get the audio book here for the UK and here for the US.
Audio-book cover for ‘The Writer’s Pen and other Poems’.
There Once Was A Poet Called Purse
There once was a poet called Purse
Who’s poems became steadily worse.
His work was so bad
That it drove the critics quite mad
So they paid him to stop writing verse!
The Evening Bird Has the Last Word
The evening bird
Has the last word
Ere night closes.
In on virtue and sin.
The poet supposes
That another sun
Will come
and he will thrill
To birdsong once more.
Ere his day is o’er.
On Going to Bed Last Night
On going to bed last night
I met a young woman in white.
When I said, “please leave!”.
She said, “can’t you perceive
That you are in the wrong room tonight …?!”.
—
On going to bed last night
I met a young lady in white.
When I asked, “who are you?”
She said, “have you seen my left shoe?
And this dress it is far too tight!”.
I Have Lost My Soul
I have lost my soul
In a hole
Of pleasure and pain.
A brief absence of thought,
I am forever caught
On the wheel of no gain.
Fantasies Come Out In Dreams
Fantasies come out in dreams
When consciousness streams
Unopposed.
Her clothes
Are lost
At no cost
To the dreamer or to her.
And, come the morn
The dreamer is from his fantasy torn
And the wolf returns to his lair.
But, have a care
Lest in sleep
You her name speak
For respectability is a thin veil
And friends would turn pale
Where they to know
Where you go
In sleep
