Time poems
/ page 366 of 792 /
prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by incapacity (blake proverb)
© Rg Gregory
prudence my love
each time you invite me to tea
i wonder do i have the appetite
for what i
hope you are requiring of me
Growing Old
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Little by little the year grows old,
The red leaves drop from the maple boughs;
The sun grows dim, and the winds blow cold,
Down from the distant arctic seas.
two spanish poems
© Rg Gregory
the sun in orihuela calms the dust
and people glide about the streets at ease
(problems left indoors to cool themselves)
time has grown fat and no one cares
to pin each minute to its proper place
the day is long tomorrow's not yet real
A Story Of Doom: Book VI.
© Jean Ingelow
"Now to-day
One cometh, yea, an harmless man, a fool,
Who boasts he hath a message from our God,
And lest that you, for bravery of heart
And stoutness, being angered with his prate,
Should lift a hand, and kill him, I am here."
Autumn Evenings
© Edgar Albert Guest
Apples on the table an' the grate-fire blazin' high,
Oh, I'm sure the whole world hasn't any happier man than I;
The Mother sittin' mendin' little stockin's, toe an' knee,
An' tellin' all that's happened through the busy day to me:
Oh, I don't know how to say it, but these cosy autumn nights
Seem to glow with true contentment an' a thousand real delights.
Season Of Song
© Stesichorus
Forget the wars.
It is time to sing.
Take out the flute from Phrygia
and recall the songs of our blond Graces.
uganda cry
© Rg Gregory
uganda (victim to a white
man's piece of chalk) now victim to
a gloated bitterness in black
your griefs have swamped the nile
The River of Life
© Thomas Campbell
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
when the new year
© Rg Gregory
when the new year
came out of nowhere
and peeped into rooms
it was so flattered to find
transformations
© Rg Gregory
and the swords came in their varying degrees
of shininess and sharpness some never
having lost their pristine feel others with blunt
tips and broken blades a few so steeped in blood
a dried rustiness still stained them - and those wilted
at the hilt (weary of the code that bred them)
after the parties
© Rg Gregory
let's all go to the party friends
where left over bottles and stale fag-ends
are proudly on offer from the last time round
and our hosts believe by a ritual sound
fine spirits will flow and new cellophane wrappers
will tingle the fingers of eligible clappers
safe-home
© Rg Gregory
don't be so lazy maisie maisie
don't be so lazy please
i know it's snowing
and a hard wind's blowing
Revenge
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill,
Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill,
The thunders wild voice rattles madly above,
You will not then, cannot then, leave me my love.'--
wimborne minster
© Rg Gregory
though there's not much faith left
and very little snow
this scene of wimborne minster
still makes its christmas show
The Crucible
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Because thou camest, Love, to break
The strong mould of this world in two,
And of the senseless fragments take
And in thy mighty music make
the feminine touch
© Rg Gregory
she came on a fine cool morning
the last of a course i was attending
as we crowded the pavement
waiting to be let in hello she said
night-piece
© Rg Gregory
what's that
i'm awake
a bang like a door or a foot
knocking a chair
who's there
that precise moment
© Rg Gregory
however foul the times or difficult the ways are
through those personal morasses this change of age
wont let a single being (rich or poor) be free from
come spring the trees get on with their blossoming
youd think they didnt read the newspapers
snail and spiral
© Rg Gregory
i take my property with me says the snail
slow-moving (yes) but packed with sublime thought
the house upon its back some kind of grail
vulnerable to brute boot - and wisdom bought
