James, my inspiration and Muse...



Welcome

Here is a collection of my favourite poetry,
Mr May has admitted to liking poetry.
He has even inspired me to write some.
He likes poetry, I like him.
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Click on pics to enlarge.

Thank you for visiting.



Wednesday 26 February 2014

Well Dressing
 

Heart's Song
Richard Spender

Sing, Heart, a gay song,
Before my knees give way and I grovel;
Before I break my own rein,
And the eyes of those that love me
See me a coward, and fill with ice, despising!

'Shut the door behind you tight,
There's no returning.
In memory your tears will flow
For home's peace yearning.
Pretend you have no mother,
No soft-eyed love,
Pretend you hate your brother
...O, Christ above...
Forget that hedgerows shelter lambs,
That clover stems are sweet,
Forget you plucked her cowslips
Where other lovers meet.'

'Sing, Heart! Quickly, sing loudly
Some song to take from me this fear;
Take hold of this blade, and drag it,
Drag it by chorus and joke, ruthlessly,
Before it kills me, from my naked heart.

'Laugh and sing, laugh and sing,
Laugh and sing at anything,
Laugh till you close your eyes with mirth.
This your only rest on earth -
Learn to laugh until you're blind,
And then the Fear that lurks behind
Will not be seen, will not be known,
Until you meet, unarmed, alone.
He who stops laughing and opens his eyes
Meets Death ten times before he dies.'

Give me a song, Heart, to sing loudly;
Something bold and without meaning,
Like a drum, like a drum, like a drum.
Sing quickly, Heart, in a strong voice
Before it is too late and my lips tremble,
A gay song, careless and free, powerful, blind,
Like a swinging, booted, marching-step,
Full of unthinking machine-courage,
Like a boot, shining and heavy, unfeeling, thick.

I looked at Heart, the hot tears through,
And saw that Heart was crying too.

Saturday 22 February 2014


The Young Soldier
Richard Spender

(He died aged just 21 as he led his men into battle in Tunisia during Operation Torch in WW2.)

I am young.
With my proud young body
I have run over the smiling threshold of life.
All my bright years
I have clapped hands in the sunlight.
I have smelt shy roses
And the full scents of rain-kissed woods in spring.
I have lain in ecstasy
Under the spell of the cool river
When the sunset carried to me the musics of God.
I have loved beautiful and strong things.
I have stood humbled in the shadows of the Irish hills,
I have bathed my body in the meadows of green Warwickshire.

All my swift time
I have run free,
Like an unbroken horse
Mad with the joy of the wind in my nostrils;
Excited in the new strength
Of the powerful limbs,
And unfenced race.

May I not pay for this?
Have I travelled like a coward?
Have I evaded the cost?
Come! We have lived life to the last stirring drop
Of the strange deep-thrilling wine.
As we have lived
So let us die.
In high proud exultation
Let us repay
Laughing blood with spilt.

Let Youth assure the Youth of later springs
The sunshine and the joy that it has known.

This rich river of life could never fade
Into a dull, sand-soaked stagnancy.
How better end it than to plunge
With unflinched pride in sacrifice
Over the final glorious cataract of Death?

Friday 14 February 2014


Valentine
Mine

Your smile can startle me with the wonder of it,
A feather touch transmits a thousand things,
You look into my eyes, search my soul,
question it... In answering, it sings.
Your love is ever like a drug, I grow
addicted and will never cease to crave.
Do you realise, you had me at the first 'hello',
One simple word empowered to enslave.
Your voice, whispering softly to me, warms my heart,
I feel wrapped up, and safe from outside hate,
And often I recall it when we're far apart,
And because of it's assurance, stand the wait.
Keep me whole, keep me sane, love me until
All seas are ice and skies are never blue.
And if that day will come, believe, I'll love you still,
My Valentine, my heart belongs to you.

Wednesday 12 February 2014

Tuesday 11 February 2014


 
Night Wind
John Clare
 
 Darkness like midnight from the sobbing woods
 Clamours with dismal tidings of the rain
 Roaring as rivers breaking loose in floods
 To spread and foam and deluge all the plain
 The cotter listens at his door again
 Half doubting whether it be floods or wind
 And through the thickening darkness looks afraid
 Thinking of roads that travel has to find
 Through night's black depths in danger's garb arrayed
 And the loud glabber round the flaze soon stops
 When hushed to silence by a lifted hand
 Of fearing dame who hears the noise in dread
 And thinks a deluge comes to drown the land
 Nor dares she go to bed until the tempest drops.
 

Love-Child
Brendan Kennelly

Because the love-child in her belly stirred
She understood the stirring of the sea
And scorned in silence every hollow word
They thought consoled her wordless misery.
She knew the agony of the shot bird,
The threat to lovers' ecstasy;
Her cousins prattled on, she scarcely heard
But stared straight at the fire, then suddenly

Got up and quit the house of platitude
Where a small ring of astonished people sat
Looking at each other first, then at the flame
While she, tasting the air of solitude,
Felt them recede into the night
And in the private darkness, breathed his name.

Monday 10 February 2014


Before Action
W N Hodgson

By all the glories of the day
And the cool evening's benison
By that last sunset touch that lay
Upon the hills when day was done,
By beauty lavishly outpoured
And blessings carelessly received,
By all the days that I have lived
Make me a soldier, Lord.

By all of all man's hopes and fears
And all the wonders poets sing,
The laughter of unclouded years,
And every sad and lovely thing;
By the romantic ages stored
With high endeavour that was his,
By all his mad catastrophes
Make me a man, O Lord.

I, that on my familiar hill
Saw with uncomprehending eyes
A hundred of thy sunsets spill
Their fresh and sanguine sacrifice,
Ere the sun swings his noonday sword
Must say good-bye to all of this; -
By all delights that I shall miss,
Help me to die, O Lord.


Back to Rest
W N Hodgson

A leaping wind from England
The skies without a stain,
Clean cut against the morning
Slim poplars after rain,
The foolish noise of sparrows
And starlings in a wood -
After the grime of battle
We know that these are good.

Death whining down from heaven,
Death roaring from the ground,
Death stinking in the nostril,
Death shrill in every sound,
Doubting we charged and conquered -
Hopeless we struck and stood;
Now when the fight is ended
We know that it was good.

We that have seen the strongest
Cry like a beaten child,
The sanest eyes unholy,
The cleanest hands defiled,
We that have known the heart-blood
Less than the lees of wine,
We that have seen men broken,
We know man is divine.

Ave, Mater - Atque Vale
W N Hodgson

The deathless mother, grey and battle-scarred,
Lies in the sanctuary of stately trees,
Where the deep Northern night is saffron starred
Above her head, and thro' the dusk she sees
God's shadowy fortress keep unsleeping guard.

From her full breast we drank of joy and mirth
And gave to her a boy's unreasoned heart,
Wherein Time's fullness was to bring to birth
Such passionate allegiance that to part
Seemed like the passing of all light on earth.

Now on the threshold of a man's estate,
With a new depth of love akin to pain
I ask thy blessing, while I dedicate
My life and sword, with promise to maintain
Thine ancient honour yet inviolate.

Last night dream-hearted in the Abbey's spell
We stood to sing old Simeon's passing hymn,
When sudden splendour of the sunset fell
Full on my eyes, and passed and left all dim -
At once a summons and a deep farewell.

I am content - our life is but a trust
From the great hand of God, and if I keep
The immortal Treasure clean of mortal rust
Against His claim, 'tis well and let me sleep
Among the not dishonourable dust.
                             

Saturday 1 February 2014


Loving in Truth, and Fain in Verse my Love to Show
Sir Philip Sidney

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That She, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain,
—Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain—
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe,
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburnt brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay;
Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows;
And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite—
"Fool!" said my Muse to me "look in thy heart, and write!"       

Come, O come, my life's delight!
Thomas Campion

Come, O come, my life's delight!
Let me not in languor pine:
Love loves no delay, thy sight
The more enjoyed, the more divine.
O come, and take from me
The pain of being deprived of thee.

Thou all sweetness dost enclose,
Like a little world of bliss:
Beauty guards thy looks: the rose
In them pure and eternal is.
Come then! and make thy flight
As swift to me as heavenly light!

Before the Thirteenth, Hamburg, May 1942
Arthur E Newall

Now I have done twelve.
If I could shelve tonight's affair
And not be there
When the clouded moon
Lights up the Alster;
But could instead go home
And sleep
Certain to see tomorrow's day
Then I could live
Grow young
Someday turn grey
But now I feel that this is my last day.
It seems that I shall never do
The things I planned.
Smell no more new cut grass
Touch falling water
Stand cliff high
Facing wind swept sea rain
Or walk those meadows
Holding a smooth hand.
And will she with the fair tumbling hair
Say white haired,
'I knew an airman once, Loved him, too.'
And then she'll shake her head the way I know so well
And say, 'He loved me, too.'
She'll know I'm there.
Watching from every cloud
Carried along in dreams and memories
Trailing the bright stars in Summer;
Perhaps in Autumn
She'll watch the leaves dancing
In every wayward breeze.
Leaves falling from boughs traced lace black
Against the glooming sky.
She'll see me - saying - half aloud,
'He came this way. Look how the old leaves flutter
Sighing for old friends
That living cannot last.'
But in the Spring
When all the hedgerows light up
With May blossom
And the lilacs bloom
I may be found in each new jewelled field
Tasting the sweet drops from new reaching blades
Then she'll run to me
And call my name.
Cry it across the shouting wind
Across our fields
In rain or in the lightning flash
She'll find me there.
And we shall find sweet, solitary bliss
Without the sadness of a parting kiss.