Showing posts from May, 2011

Thoughts at a Ruined Priory

Bronzy bells that chime no more,
Rusted bands that bound a door,
And lichen slowly crawling,
Like a sea's resistless tide, Lapping forward, rock by rock, Up the walls on every side.
Slow decay of bleaching bone, Ringed all 'round by crumbling stone, Death is singing them to sleep. Lain at rest in hallowed sod, Priors, monks, their work complete, Slumber in the peace of God.
Wake not to my careful tread As I walk across your bed. Wake not to the happy lark, Or the gently stirring breeze As it whispers, soft and low, Your old secrets to the trees.

Hiding Place

Disclaimer: This poem should not be taken as a statement about my views on life. It is not neccessarily about me. 
Secret, silent,
Private and secure, My place to hide away. Far from the madness we call life And the rush of each new day. Dewdrops sparkling, Jewels in the grass, And a grey mist drifting Conceals me from a heedless world   Where good and bad are shifting.
Mixing, blending, Everything is grey. Monochrome is 'in' now, The world has said 'conform or else' But my spirit will not bow.
Resting, hiding, 'Til I have the strength To stand up and say 'no'. Someday I will be brave enough To go against the flow.


Big brown eyes,
Rimmed by thick lashes

Bloated belly,
And a hernia

Lovely mouth,
With a gentle curve

Curly black hair,
Falling out in patches

Two bare feet,
Coated in dust

And a little hand
Holding mine.