Tuesday, 23 May 2017

Angelus Mortis

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

(Lord Byron)

Friday, 5 May 2017

On A Day Such As This

On a day such as this when spring is loud
In skies azure blue and emerald glistening,
Memories stir of that which I am proud;
My place, people and past. Who's listening?

For now they are gone, and a ruin stands
Where once life curled upward from altars
In sweet-smelling billows across the lands
Of my fading forefathers. Who do I call to

On a day such as this
Where robins fly?
What I silently miss
Is that ghostly cry:


Thursday, 20 April 2017

Birthday Surprise

Sarah  has a surprise visit from her old friend Kaye. They last saw each other thirty years ago at our wedding. Sarah and Kaye were together at university studying drama and dance, and shared a flat in London for two years after graduating. It was at that moment I met Sarah; so Kaye is also an old friend of mine. She has been busy working in film, television, musicals and theatre. Doubtless now we've renewed contact we'll see much more of her.

Wednesday, 12 April 2017

Will You Marry Me?

Returned we were from Avebury,
Sitting in candle-lit room so grand,
Together and alone, after having tea, 
I asked and received your hand.

Your mother had celebrated sixty
On that day when I proposed,
Now she has seen half as many
Again as that, and as we rose

To depart southward for home, said:
"Take good care of her" (meaning my wife).
I replied with hand on hers and lifted head: 
"She is the light of my life."

Farewell Dear Departed One

Farewell dear departed one;
Flowers afresh adorn the stone.
While mist arrives to mourn
The dying of the sinking sun.

Farewell, dear loved one;
Now petals patiently sigh
For the coming of the dawn.
Yet I only know goodbye. 

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

The Unquiet Grave

“The wind doth blow today, my love, 
And a few small drops of rain; 
I never had but one true-love, 
In cold grave she was lain. 

“I’ll do as much for my true-love 
As any young man may; 
I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave 
For a twelvemonth and a day.” 

The twelvemonth and a day being up, 
The dead began to speak: 
“Oh who sits weeping on my grave, 
And will not let me sleep?” 

“’T is I, my love, sits on your grave, 
And will not let you sleep; 
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, 
And that is all I seek.” 

“You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips, 
But my breath smells earthy strong; 
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, 
Your time will not be long. 

“’T is down in yonder garden green, 
Love, where we used to walk, 
The finest flower that e’re was seen 
Is withered to a stalk. 

“The stalk is withered dry, my love, 
So will our hearts decay; 
So make yourself content, my love, 
Till God calls you away.”