A wedding took fair place in London town,
And all of those who, blessed by fortune, came
Will cherish in their hearts its matchless flame
Which as it played brought joy to London town.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Summer foray by wheelchair
In Whitstable of just renown
Your hospitality was fun.
Our fine repast being wine-washed down,
I ventured to be ably spun
Beside the windy pebbled beach
Past oyster bar and sailing smack.
Then through the winding streets, where each
Historic feature can bring back
A past that civic pride holds dear
And keeps alive from year to year.
Your hospitality was fun.
Our fine repast being wine-washed down,
I ventured to be ably spun
Beside the windy pebbled beach
Past oyster bar and sailing smack.
Then through the winding streets, where each
Historic feature can bring back
A past that civic pride holds dear
And keeps alive from year to year.
Reflections from a drop
I saw a raindrop glitter in the Sun,
So like a pearl from that endearing ear
Dependant, sparkling, swaying in response
In concert with the movements of a life
Of unexampled truthfulness of quest
To find the genuine and scorn the rest.
So like a pearl from that endearing ear
Dependant, sparkling, swaying in response
In concert with the movements of a life
Of unexampled truthfulness of quest
To find the genuine and scorn the rest.
A presence still
Amidst the hills of fond remembered days
I sense your presence by me where we were
Accustomed to enjoy the summer's lapse
Beneath the skylark dome of buoyant clouds.
Your presence is in me, not on the hill,
Still less at home when, waking from a doze,
Half conscious in the passing of the night,
I turn to where you cannot be.
The conversations that remained unheld
Will never have the option to begin;
So much was still deserving to be said
When time's thin trickle swelled into a flood
That tore apart the fabric we had made,
But left the power of memory to mend.
I sense your presence by me where we were
Accustomed to enjoy the summer's lapse
Beneath the skylark dome of buoyant clouds.
Your presence is in me, not on the hill,
Still less at home when, waking from a doze,
Half conscious in the passing of the night,
I turn to where you cannot be.
The conversations that remained unheld
Will never have the option to begin;
So much was still deserving to be said
When time's thin trickle swelled into a flood
That tore apart the fabric we had made,
But left the power of memory to mend.
Prompted by an admonitory lemur on a birthday card
Best take your cue from nature - have a break,
No need to court commotion for its sake.
The lemurs show how talented they are -
They hasten slowly, yet progress so far,
While not forgetting that it's just as sound
To start to party when the time comes round!
No need to court commotion for its sake.
The lemurs show how talented they are -
They hasten slowly, yet progress so far,
While not forgetting that it's just as sound
To start to party when the time comes round!
Coombe Hill
Coombe Hill of lofty fame and far-flung view,
How in departing summer now you glow
Beneath a patchwork sky of white and blue,
And lend to us your slopes to come and go,
Fly high our kites or find a picnic site
Or take your tracks toward the Monument
Erected to recall an old dissent
When war was used as arbiter of right.
You did not ask for us to use you so,
Nor yet decline to let us come and go.
You do not judge - where we now praise now scold -
Instead being ever ready to enfold.
How in departing summer now you glow
Beneath a patchwork sky of white and blue,
And lend to us your slopes to come and go,
Fly high our kites or find a picnic site
Or take your tracks toward the Monument
Erected to recall an old dissent
When war was used as arbiter of right.
You did not ask for us to use you so,
Nor yet decline to let us come and go.
You do not judge - where we now praise now scold -
Instead being ever ready to enfold.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)