Love and lust all end in dust. Standing at the mirror applying makeup, hiding who you are, but who are you anyway? A girl seeking for something beyond your grasp, you trip gaily down the primrose path to destruction. You laugh the sound signifies I no not what.
A recording of yours truly reading my poem ‘Park after Rain’.
Can anyone detect a Liverpool accent?
Listening to cars passing their engines lost in the distance never to return. Like seconds ticking the traffick moves inexorably onwards. What is the purpose? Why must I die and be forever lost in the emptiness of death?
Yesterday evening, lying in bed, browsing Youtube on my Ipad I came across Charles Dicken’s poem, Autumn Leaves on Youtube. I must confess to not having been aware that in addition to his novels, short stories and travel writings Dickens had, in addition written poetry. This one is well worth a listen. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ESlzcQqEFY
On Tuesday evening I had dinner with an old friend. During the meal I remarked how as I walked up the hill towards the restaurant the sound of birdsong filled the air. Listening to the song of the birds almost made me weep and yet I was unable to put into words why that should be so.
Several days later my friend sent me the below quote who’s origin I have been unable to trace. It expresses beautifully my feelings on that evening as I listened to birdsong on my way to meet my friend
“I walk a path after rain between trees.
I hear birdsong
And weep inside for something lost.”
K Morris - Poet 