Friday 9 June 2017

Winter


The clouds grow thick today

This wind calls the bitter cold night

And over these drab faces falls a pall slate grey

Twill cast shadows upon a murky world

 

Shorn and closed fast is the limited way

Pushed through close mire and diminishing light

“And at the end a precipice” sullen voices will say

And you’ll heed them and be chilled

 

Over flowing streams grow an oily glaze

They’ll slow-thicken and deny you bitter respite

Even in blackness there’s the thrill of minds’ fey

But all is cold and dull in these misty curls

 

Let us not then talk of the joys of Spring

Nay we must trudge

And hold life within

Saturday 3 June 2017


Autumn I

 

She looked out the window

Where leaves sway and shake

An instance of light

A softened glance

Through this earth’s moving tilt

All is golden and clear

 

The swelling light now clear, now dim

Lit again in its pulse

Rose fluffs in a sky shell blue

Or a yellowing path of parchment rustling

 

Some books glow with their inner light

To meet the dimming light

 

Almost

Almost remembering

Almost in flight

An ancient age
Awoken in this light

    In imitation of Baudelaire   These two poems were written sometime in my mid to late twenties, around fifteen years ago, describing th...