Long Hedgerow Poems

Warning: Mature themes, though at the time.             

             Recollections of a...

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Sunday morning early, five a.m to be
precise, my mind awakes, then gently succours
the body to arise from one’s mundane sleep. I
then transfer to Britain via 1ZB, listening
to the English football commentary, it’s worth
the lack of...

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In a foreign lush green sprawling land
A patchwork carpet stitched together
In shades of tawny browns yellows and green
Rugged rock forest and wind-swept moor
Is a awe-inspiring spectacle to be seen

In summer's adorned frock adorned bushes and...

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                           I
On the hill betwixt Carlisle and Deep Creek
...

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Apple of my eye darling daughter numero deux gifted me...

Twenty four years ago –
February 4th, 2023,
whose existence begat 
by this dada and da mama aye
revel in your bursting at figurative 
seams viz maturation, and know...

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Shana Aubrey Harris – 
 whose existence begat by dada and da mama; aye
revel your bursting at figurative seams viz maturation, and know by
chatting over telephone, your aura, charisma, 
   and persona finds...

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Childhood memories,making camps upon the moors
 wriggling through the bracken deep,
Making paths to our secret den.
Climbing trees,and falling too!
Moss on stones, glistening sun on stepping stones,
Swimming in the river...with a shiver.

Roly poly down the hill,...

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The weather was just how I liked it
Looking like it would stay dry
The breeze had the sharp tinge of winter
Beneath a low overcast sky

The thick blackthorn hedgerow behind me
Bordered the tangled beech wood
In front was...

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No one seemed to take much note at first.
Old-timers on park benches passed a comment or two,
Somebody wrote a letter to the local rag,
but no one (who mattered, that is)
really seemed to mind.
Of course, you...

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“no!” …

he said, “they’ll ne’er take Piccadilly!”
then downed a pint in one gulp …
tucking five pounds under the edge of
his sodden Churchill coaster,
“bloody awful price!” he grumbled quietly,
turning sharply on his heel to
depart the pub...

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Because She Craved the Very Best
by Michael R. Burch
 
Because she craved the very best,
he took her East, he took her West;
he took her where there were no wars
and brought her bright bouquets of stars,
the...

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Written: April 14, 2024, For Silent One Forgotten Fields Contest

Rumi Verse: “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too...

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A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take. Gaspard Mermillod

When I was a baby, you sang me to sleep
Mom, do you recall when...

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Walton’s Scrapyard

Mr Walton was our local scrap man
He wore a great big hat
His yard was squeezed between 
Two terraced houses
And I was always amazed at that

The yard was full of junk
Rusting scrap
And old tat
Tangled up...

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Scant animals with their glassy hoped-for eyes
draw near to my crumbling step.
I think they want to sing me something,
carol a Mozart aria perhaps,
but they cannot
so they lift furry eyebrows
shuffle as if to say, ‘we can’t,
but...

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On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
        A puppy that wouldn’t stop peeing on my tree.
On the second day of Christmas my true...

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We walk across meadow and moor 
Along tracks where horse and carriage once rode 
Treading paths where the poets of yore 
In search of inspiration once strode. 
Lilac and sage scented hedgerow 
Old stone wall...

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When time flies, feelings of euphoria,
spur jaw-dropping habitus within,
vision of nirvana on groundswell earth,
chirping bird amber tone on hedgerow,
cacophony that piercing aural backdrop,
riotry of wild bewitching warble,
golden fronted leaf, black nape oriole, 
northern red bishop,
snapshot...

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Like a new babe at life's door
this one last chance at being alive
yet cries for redemption, 
I'm really, really, sorry, 
but be quiet.

I don't know how to get to you.. 
you're out now.., at long...

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We walk across meadow and moor 
Along tracks where horse and carriage once rode 
Treading paths where the poets of yore 
In search of inspiration once strode. 
Lilac and sage scented hedgerow 
Old stone wall...

Read More

We walk across meadow and moor 
Along tracks where horse and carriage once rode 
Treading paths where the poets of yore 
In search of inspiration once strode. 
Lilac and sage scented hedgerow 
Old stone wall...

Read More

Voices from another galaxy 
drop hints about this blissful daydream dwelling I’m 
obsessed with.
They douse the strident yelping from an unrestrained stray pup in my neighbourhood,
when it breaks clear of its tan leather muzzle with...

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A pointing stick on a pointing curve is a bit treacherous especially after rain. But if a rainbow is a grinning sky and a moon is not moody then the sun would be a titan...

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That day we followed the ancient byway                          
that wound round...

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Now be realistic I say to myself                            ...

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