The rain fell
In the wood I know well.
I could say it’s sound
Was very profound
And the forest rang with birdsong.
All of this is true.
But I was wet through
And wanted home
And hot tea!
The rain fell
In the wood I know well.
I could say it’s sound
Was very profound
And the forest rang with birdsong.
All of this is true.
But I was wet through
And wanted home
And hot tea!
Me reading my poems ‘As You Pass’ and ‘Raining’ on Soundcloud.
The wind, in the city
Blows on our pretty
Baubles. And on thee
And me.
And seems to say,
“Baubles and thee
Will pass away.
But I will stay
And laugh
At lad and lass
Who, in the joy of romance
Drink and dance
And Think
They will remain, forever young.
The poet’s tongue
Will into silence go.
While I (the weather)
Will forever
Remain
In wind, and snow,
And rain.
Walking through the churchyard
I heard
you talking.
Your word
Was gentle then,
A breeze
Whispering amongst the leaves,
But when
You In anger blow
The wise know
That your breath
Augurs death,
For we reap what we sow.
In the wood’s dark
Heart the breeze
Whispers in the trees
Words that I can not comprehend.
May god send
Me peace
And this breeze
Never cease.
Will Autumn come as it should
With strong winds to shake the wood?
Thus far I have found
Only a few conkers on the ground.
Most, being small
I let lie where they did fall,
But three with me now
Are sitting, far removed from mighty bough.
I wonder, will they be discovered when I am gone?
What a strange question to ponder on!
I have seen no acorns yet,
The oak’s fruit that stirs regret.
Memories of a time long since past
When I would wonder the forest vast
With my grandfather kind
Seeking acorns to find.
Autumn is here
Yet the time of year
Seems wrong.
The sun’s rays strong
Have harried the woods too long
and I, like nature am bemused
About the reason
For this confusion in the season.
Waiting for the lightning to rend
These troubled skies and send
A bolt to tear apart
This artificial heart.
My thoughts lost on the damp air
Going who knows where.
The sodden grass
I pass
Where children play
but not today.
No ball
or bird call.
Only the rain’s incessant fall.
I awoke to the rain
drumming on my window pane.
Opening my lattice I let it in
the purifying water that washes away sin.
The hypnotic sound
of rain falling all around.
All my life I have listened to the rain.
The same drumming
of water coming
from the sky
falling on you and I.
The rain has no end
But you and I my friend
May listen for a while
Smile
then pass on by.
The wind gusts and a bird in a tree above my head sings. It is a wonderful windswept day in the environs of Crystal Palace. yet in France, in the past week fanatics with hate in their hearts have committed atrocities. None the less the bird still pours out his soul. The poignant singing gladdening and tearing my heart apart simultaneously.