Inspired and influenced by some diary entries I read at University while I was having an existential crisis. I tried taking excerpts from diaries and adding my own feelings of sadness that we do not get to watch the marvels of nature forever.
Wild clouds and great swathes of mournful light,
Across the resplendent valley.
And rain gleams in a shower of diamond spearlets,
That dazzle my eyes.
White smoke from the water rises above the hilltops,
And is snatched by the interminable wind.
Instantaneously the rain, relentless, stops.
It has run its course, the air rinsed quite clear.
An apricot sky of flames and solemn pinks transpires,
The Sun adjourns at the end of another day.
And as I retire too, from my front row seat,
From a sight that makes me feel my immortality.
I am pervaded with wondrous melancholy.
This poem is inspired by James Wright’s poem titled ‘Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota‘, and from spending time with my Grandad in a small village in Norfolk.
The ring-necked pheasant flies to his domain,
In the impending darkness of dusk.
The hazel and golden tones of its feathers,
Fading in the concluding light.
A canopy of pine trees shelter me,
And the imminent shadow that forms,
Emits a placid tranquillity.
Peace, alas peace!
For my wonderful Great-Grandmother, I love and miss you dearly.
One morning as day was dawning,
On a most bright, but dismal day.
The Sun shone through the curtains,
And the darkness drew away.
Sitting at the end of her bed,
Was the most remarkable of all God’s creatures.
They drew her hair from her sleeping face,
And gazed upon her delicate features.
At that most precise and perfect moment,
She opened her unknowing eyes,
And absorbed the Seraph’s illustrious face.
But to her, this was not a surprise.
‘I know why you are here, and where I am to go.’
A gentle smiled formed upon her lips.
She took the Seraph’s soothing hand,
And the Seraph was transfixed.
How gracious was the lady,
Who had smiled in the face of death.
And willingly accepted it all,
Within her expiring breath.
That day God gained an Angel,
And that Angel was she.
And I find comfort, as I firmly believe,
She’s up there, watching over me.
The winter sun descending,
Hiding behind the despoiled trees.
Daylight’s glow is ending,
The darkness comes to appease.
But the twilight does not dismiss,
The rare beauty that nature emits.
And Reed’s croon their fondness and bliss,
Oh, how humbling creation is.
What a wondrous world we live in.
As I must accept my ascending years,
I must also come to face my fears.
Time no longer is my friend,
Instead it impends,
Reminiscent of the end.
If it is my time to go,
Then tell me why must it hurt us so?
But if there is one thing that comforts me,
It is that I lived my life candidly.
So at my graveside do not weep,
As I go on to my gentle sleep.
Upon my pilgrimage, weak and weary on my feet,
Wandering the depths of the dark cold streets,
And by chance on my travels, a stranger I meet.
With his old, sun-beaten and weathered face,
His glance meets mine, in a kind sort of grace,
And supports my fatigued shoulders in an aiding embrace.
‘Tell me guest, have you far to go?’
‘Oh, kindly stranger, I do not know,
I know not how far I have to go.’
‘Then please tell me you have a place to stay?’
I shook my head with deep dismay.
‘I have not a place to stay, and if I did, I have not money to pay.’
And in that moment he looked at me,
I had half expected him to flee,
Instead, he just stared back pityingly.
It was this look which made me ashamed,
‘Kindly stranger, I ask for nothing.’ I proclaimed,
As I drifted on my journey feeling maimed.
Further on at the path side, I began to lament,
I was lost, and this was my torment,
My life in a state of complete discontent.
And through my tears, I saw an ambushed deer,
It thought through strength and flailed in fear.
But after it’s suffering, the fawn was clear.
And at that moment it became evident,
That whatever path I took was irrelevant,
And that life was simply about development.
The only people who can truly help us, are ourselves,
But by our journey, we must not be overwhelmed.
My path is mine to choose,
For this fact, one must peruse.
My life is like a fragmentary tale,
With which I am free,
To do whatever I will.