beside the singing waters edge
a ballad low to lure the mists
came from the softest silver ebbs
and, oh! my soul dare not resist
the poetry of lakeland’s ghosts
which permeated on the airs
in lyrics man has long since lost
yet still may in these wild hills hear.
ode
The Corinthian Cynic
through Doric streets
his lamp in hand
to cast a light
on the honest man
that e’en Apollo
in his godly state
could not on earth
illuminate.
Simplicity
let us walk a mile
and talk a while
upon the weather
and let us say
that such a day
should be ours forever
perhaps you’ll smile
and me beguile
as nobody has ever
in feeling gay
like this today
would bind our hearts together
Garner My Grave
garner my grave with verse
or worse
desolate prose
sung of dead roses
that my sleepless rest be dressed
anoint my lifeless form
with pointless balms
though sweet perfume
shall not exhume
this lost soul that travels west
A Pastoral Ode
dragon’s fly these melodies
sang in silence to the streams
which though gave birth in discord
grew into honeyed dulcet dreams
that once awakened by the sun
bring forth a music to the dawn
embracing life, in love pursued
from this day to each summer’d morn.
Rained
It had rained
and with it came
the sky laced low
of cameo
the bluest light
to end the night
and winter’s things
a sign of spring
with this day came
after the rain
Woodland
woodpecking echoes the cuckoo’s call
did we hear too the forest trees fall
or could that have been the grumpity roar
of rudely awakened overslept boar?
twit goes the skylark
peep peep sounds the tit
chirping is the chaffinch
rounding all of it
arark screams the raven
above woodpigeons coos
silent floats the sparrowhawk
taking in the view
silent as a falling leaf
or as the fated wren
seen by keen eyes in the sun
it’s eyes won’t see again.
Tower Garden
she walked into the towered garden
unsure of her place in the world
but as she departed from those gates
love was assured as fate unfurled
as the petals red as passion
her spirit flamed outside to see
for there inside the towered garden
I saw her and she saw me.
Skeyes
as I fly
in her eyes
I see the sky
reflected
above the storm
flashing warm
safe from harm
protected.
an ancient burial (first draft)
what dreams lived in his head then
upon that verdant delta when
the gods played games among the stars
could those dreams be just as ours
or have they over the eons past
like ghosts in this decaying casket
took on a form not of our ration
beyond the realms of our abstraction
the blighters rock 