Fratrisidled
On 2016 June 29th by montyHe rode a metronome, a-saddled high, burdened with lead, Weeks a-rode from home, September sky unpleasant red, His head a heavy tome, a desp’rate guy in want of bed, A dirt encrusted dome, black-dripping eye, and close to dead. His hoss, a steady mare, relentless marching in its sway, A’course, not heard no-where neither a
A Welsh Sunset
On 2016 May 25th by montyI wrote this in the spring of 2011, looking out of the window on a train leaving Cardiff A bronzing autumn afternoon in spring, That radiates a gorgeous golden glow, Oh, precious sun, herald the evening, Through tempered twilight’s tanning undertow. The last we see are copper-coloured reds, And bars of luscious long-lamenting light, Before
A Sonnet’s On It
On 2016 May 18th by montyA quick piece of iambic pentameter inspired by my two favourite poets of yesteryear, William Shakespeare and John Donne. Shall I compare thee to a sonnet verse? Though art more lovely and more musical. Rough winds prevent time needed to rehearse, Though summer’s lyrics remain whimsical. Sometime too vague a sonnet’s matter reads, And often
Found Horse
On 2016 May 18th by montyI stumbled on this opening that I churned out to a longer form poem – I’ll probably add to it and edit it as time goes on, but here’s just the beginning… I came upon a solitary steed, Though in itself not a peculiar sight, It was of gentle stand and healthy breed, And harnessed
On Autumn
On 2016 May 10th by montyThe fourth poem in my Seasons quartet How beautiful the elegance of slowly turning old, The elegy of decadence that’s wilting brown and gold, The gentle sinking of the sun between the harvest-trees, That shows, through glows of telling beams, the thinning of the leaves. The turning of the soil, but the toil of this chore
On Summer
On 2016 May 10th by montyThe third poem in my Seasons quartet The greatest show on earth is found in ground and nooks and brooks, Wherever there are lovers, and where every child looks, Where wild stretching fauna finds a corner yet to fill, Of every downing valley, and of every crowning hill. The fullest time of life is of sublime,
On Spring
On 2016 May 10th by montyThe second poem in my Seasons quartet When little is our last of hope to feel the warmth again, When unexpectedly we wish, through tiring Winter-rain, To feel the torrents pouring down from lazy snoring clouds, But warm and wet and wondrously damp and drenching shrouds That thaw the ice and nicely kiss the earth beneath
On Winter
On 2016 May 10th by montyThe first poem in my Seasons quartet We mourn the loss of afternoons to ever-sooner moons, The darkness we had once forgot in old Julys and Junes, It creeps on us to break our hearts, and tear apart the days, So bitter in its jealousy of Summer-long malaise. It takes the Autumn to defeat the
My First Poem
On 2016 May 10th by montyI once knew a monkey, called Monkey, Who grew so incredibly high, But one day he grew just too tall For our house, And he left Without saying, “Goodbye”.