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.
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 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.