Poetry Blog by Chris Hubbard (tender)
Grace and Favour
For all that a life that's truly led
provides the anxious soul with balm,
yet a gentle breeze, invisible and calm,
precedes the storm where the meek have fled.
In Summer's graceful darkling glides the hawk
in flight over burnished grain, 'till late
a final stoop unearths its prey: its fate
the slashing shadows where the killers stalk.
Thursday 31st January 2019 12:41 pm
This rumination came from growing awareness of my mortality which, in turn, is generated and measured by the expanding list of things once given or assumed that, alas, are no longer possible.
How shall I talk to you, my friend?
How should I regard you
(and will I care)
as you grow ever older before my gaze
while I stay young?
Who are you? Dare I look on yo...
Monday 15th January 2018 2:33 pm