#englishness
Haunted by you, Keats
lost in my Autumn days' revel
I reach for '' dull'' rhymes
to chain my English with their wiles
wondering if you'd bow down
before the poets of performance & free verse
or else lament the passing of the days of old
the Seasons are still changing,
true weather is ever unforetold
few write of Greek myth now
& Chatterton is all but forgot
in this new England
where the spoken word is more favored
than the blessed page
& ever stranger tastes invade
& seize the poet's lyre
I, being but a traveller unto
this land can but aspire
to touch it with my verse
before you, Keats, I bow down
to your ' Eve of St Agnes', sonnets
to your ' Endymion'
I read you & am seized by song
Oh bright star of poets,
listen - may you ever reign!
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
Our Buddleia is now in bloom
as a ' Butterfly Bush' also known
The water gathers on the purple flowers
from July's slow, sultry rainy showers
Oh what a lovely summer sight!
When in the sun, butterflies take flight
& land upon the bush in their glory!
The Buddleia stands abandoned today
the Sunday city lies beyond
it in the distance & I'm reminded
this is such an English day
the kind we don't see on postcards
( though is talked of much)
& has to be lived through & felt
A day breathed in in great lung-fulls each
time you come back from being away
in case it disappeared & left
you reeling & sank into your memory
like Atlantis sinking eerily
into the restless Sea's waves
the Buddleia knows of this
& calls me to admire it in the rain
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC