The pretentious prattlings of a piss poor poet
What memories will die with me
When I am gone?
What thoughts, what words,
What voices
Will silent fall
And never again heard will be
When this all too short term
Is passed
And I to dust am returned?
20/04/2018
Leave a CommentSilent stone word carved
By church and heath
Says so little
Of the soul that lies
Under turf
And sky
What spark was lit
From that mortal frame
And raised
From lowly shepherd
So divine a voice
In this lonely place?
I feel a debt
Of thankfulness
And humility
To this kindred spirit
Whose majesty I feel
Reaching out
As I stand
Before the
Silent stone word carved
19/09/1998
Leave a CommentA death
Tragic
Unnecessary
Came to my view
On the television
The other day
A person
Alone
Had ceased to be
And I cried
26/09/1998
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