A Life Of Fiction CXXXVI

For those of you new to this WordPress site, this site is about me and my writing – and a little about my role-playing, as well. It gives readers a chance to sample my work; and gives me the chance to say a little about the genesis of each novel, or about the process of writing in general.

More Planned Poetry Collections: In A Life Of Fiction CXXXIII I featured poems from Modern Haikus (a work in progress); from Murder Sonnets (another work in progress); from The Late, Late, Late, Late Poetry Show (completed); and from Twenty Four Poems (also completed).

Since then I have begun yet another collection, called Songs Of Bliss And Despair. The idea is to have one happy poem for each depressing piece of verse. Here, to give an example of the sort of poems which will be in that collection, when it is finished at some time in the distant future, is one poem of bliss, and one of despair.

Meadows

The meadows buzz with busy bees

Busying around the grass and trees

Seeking out the hearts of flowers

Busying on for many hours.

I sit and watch as hours pass

Sitting on the meadow grass

Nothing to do, nowhere to be

But sit and watch a busy bee.

The sky is specked with clouds of fluff

Cotton wool castles, fairy stuff;

But most is blue and very bright

As though there’ll never be a night.

There’s a river, beyond the leas

I hear it flow, it will not cease

Its music plays all lifetime long

I sit and listen to the song.

The meadows are my peaceful place

Where I escape the human race

Long may I sit beneath the trees

And calmly watch the busy bees.

A Walk

A plantagenet pinned to her coat

A silken scarf around her throat

She walks up on the high moors

Where there are no walls or doors

No slate grey roofs or windows

No company but the flows

Of jagged breezes through her hair

Where she can dream of anywhere

And all those secrets of her heart

With which she will never part

But nurture just like some child

As she wanders through the wild

Pushing through the blushing heather

Not caring once about the weather

Except to wish that it was colder

And that she wasn’t getting older

But times must pass and walks must end

The ticking clocks she can’t suspend

So she unpins that pretty flower

And throws it away with all her power

The wind throws it back, right at her feet

Even in this she must admit defeat

For base time will conquer all

And everything will one day fall.

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