Poetry Blog by Chris Laverty

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Dave Caplan on The Turtle Factory (3 days ago)

Jason Bayliss on Idle Hours (11 days ago)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on By a Waterfall (Sat, 31 Mar 2018 01:01 pm)

Hazel ettridge on By a Waterfall (Sat, 24 Mar 2018 07:42 pm)

Douglas MacGowan on Snowbound (Mon, 22 Jan 2018 10:42 pm)

Chris Laverty on A Night On The Moors (Thu, 18 Jan 2018 05:32 pm)

Douglas MacGowan on A Night On The Moors (Thu, 18 Jan 2018 07:08 am)

Chris Laverty on To Winter (Fri, 14 Jul 2017 09:17 am)

Frances Macaulay Forde on To Winter (Fri, 14 Jul 2017 04:04 am)

Harry O'Neill on To Winter (Wed, 12 Jul 2017 10:09 pm)

The Turtle Factory

Down the assembly line we go;

the finishing touch - fitting the soul -

is done - we're manufactured - so -

off the conveyer belt we roll -

 

- one by one.

 

We make for the beach and cluster there;

an army of turtles, the lakes our lair.

 

We are green like the night,

and in the distance – the city light;

(stay away from the light).

 

Let's take a swim in ...

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the turtle factory poem chris laverty

Two Flowers

Two kinds of flowers are in life's garden sown -

the first are words and deeds that spread a name;

for laurel wreaths and eulogies they're grown

that sweep such blossoms of the mind to fame.

 

The second are the flowers of the flesh -

their tenders wish beyond the grave to be

borne down their childrens' childrens' bloodlines fresh;

both seek one trophy - immortality.

 

...

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two flowers poem chris laverty

Idle Hours

The Idle Hours have found me out once more,

preyed on my straying thoughts - to murk and mire

you've cast them down in chains; lured by your lyre

they pace across the starless moors and shore.

 

You candle – like the flame of time you glow -

absorbed, unflinching as the gleaner stern -

time's wax its cull; say, have I wax to burn

for Idle Hours - say are you friend of foe?

...

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idle hours poem chris laverty

Two Cities

Tonight I walked two cities side by side,

walked nameless backstreets by the day forgot;

saw blank and faceless windows hollow eyed,

 

behind closed shops that snarled together squat;

heard silent screams that pierced white heated nights,

that stirred the trash the strewed the empty lot.

 

The city's breath half veiled her neon lights,

veiled buildings tenanted only by t...

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two cities poem chris laverty

Do Not Wake Him

Some say there is a changeless realm beyond -

more real - where life's Ideals like glaciers gleam,

and all things earthly with them correspond

as lesser shadows of this fettered dream.

 

But if they're right I do not wish to wake -

I hold a stolen piece of it in you;

and though for you my pipe can only make

poor echoes of its songs – I hope they'll do.

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do not wake him poem chris laverty

By a Waterfall

Only the lone, resounding roar,

of waters that you tireless pour,

breaks this solitude, silent and still,

as you your ancient task fulfil -

of fresh ablutions at your shrine,

with waters pure and crystalline,

that clamorous the canyon flood,

while bearing homeward nature's blood.

 

A traveller, in winter's reign,

once stood upon this treeless plain;

thrilled by rem...

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by a waterfall poem chris laverty

Snowbound

One morning a visitor had arrived;

that night a blizzard had orchestrated

the whirling snow into a symphony,

and by break of day, the familiar roads,

paths, hedges, gardens of our town now slept,

buried beneath a mantle of pure white.

 

Startled was nature to a dumb silence,

expelled were the winds to their caves.

Waist high curved the snow, half way up the door,

fall...

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snowbound poem chris laverty

A Night On The Moors

The final embers flicker in the grate -

the murmuring ghosts of ravenous flames,

that licked the logs to ashes, that have warmed

this sharp November night – the only sound

rippling this stillness, save the ticking clock,

and faint stirrings of the dog. I listen -

a forgotten sound I can hear - the sound

of silence. And the city noise and heat

that weaves its fabric round my...

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a night on the moors poem chris laverty

The Music Of The Night

Tonight I've waited long for sleep, and lie frustrated while I I hear

a thousand voices tweet unseen, the dark rejoicing with their cheer -

the chant of crickets numberless, that stir the thickets murmurous,

with ecstasy of melodies, of evening music amorous.

 

A chorus with harmony as smooth as sweetest symphony in tune;

as mild and tender in the dim as pale and slender light of...

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the music of the night poem chris laverty

The Valley Of Melancholia

The sky is charged; a veil of frozen dew

enshrouds the earth; the distant hilltops wear

the evening's pall of sullen, sable hue.

Still is the wind. With cries that fill the air,

the haunted voices of the valley share

their secrets awful and enthralling,

of nameless sins and tales appalling,

at which the trees would shudder, the mountains tremble -

with madness laughing is t...

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the valley of melancholia poem chris laverty

To Winter

Autumn – your sweet yet melancholy strains

die in this air that's tinged with distant chill;

wreathed in your harvest yields that swelled the plains,

you fade from farms and fields whose barns lie still.

The pallid Sun and northern blasts commingle

to sweep away the remnants of your bloom,

while shivers the dreaming earth with inward tingle;

the earth - whose soil was once to ...

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to winter poem chris laverty

Lords Of The Tempest

Lords of the tempest – ruling wind and rain

that lash eternally your mountain peak,

feel you the hearts of humans that you pain?

They are your marionettes when you chaos wreak,

and dash on rocks their reason; when on bleak

 

dead waters of despondency they're bourne,

by raging waves ungovernable thrown;

when cast on Cimmerian shores that know no dawn;

or into the mouth o...

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lords of the tempest poem chris laverty

This Malady

What cure is there to treat this malady -

that since we met, all else seems tinged with grey;

that hunger flees to mountains far away,

and balm of sleep no longer visits me?

That since we met - the joys that used to be

like lights that shone into my waking day,

and filled my dreams with their celestial ray -

now seem vague shadows of my memory?

Only in you is there a cure; ...

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the malady poem chris laverty

Lorianna

Quaint little Lorianna all adore,

her raven hair half hides a dove white face;

my thoughts she does not trouble anymore.

 

Though she inhabits earth she seems of lore,

she's eyes where light and darkness interlace;

sweet bitter Lorianna all adore.

 

She's like the twilight ocean's distant roar,

within her smile I lovely tempests trace;

my thoughts she does not trouble...

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lorianna poem chris laverty

To a Blackbird

Blackbird - silent sat upon this headstone,

in this antique graveyard wide and drear;

so still - who so suddenly had flown;

do you come – when steals the twilight near -

the secrets of these sleeping souls to hear?

 

Poet of the shadows, wind swift bird,

tell what shady haunts you've made your home;

haunts your cheering bursts of song have heard?

What woods, fields – sec...

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to a blackbird poem chris laverty

Music Over Water

Sleepless he walked beneath the wakeful sky;

a bright true crowd he saw - and envied them,

that in long life burn, and lone ease lie,

or fellowship gather; each silent gem

 

cheering the blindness that envelops us -

here for a blinking eye, a stolen dream.

Then suddenly there came - breaking the hush -

sweet music drifting on a nearby stream,

 

accosting him through b...

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music over still waters poem chris laverty

A Nocturnal Wandering

Beneath the revelling moon - that trips the lake,

and does our waking world of shadows paint -

with tuneful pipe he spun the pale light faint,

he spun a song for her, only to wake

 

to sunlight cold and grey, in which his tune

lifeless lay; which though he threw, then wishing

it to forget - it followed him - while wandering,

late and lone, beneath the revelling moon.

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a nocturnal wandering poem chris laverty

Fallen Days

They stole from heaven fire to meet their needs;

raised up, they less felt nature's fitful lash,

whose pitiless waves their hopes on rocks would dash;

knowledge then bloomed - near wisdom's withered seeds,

 

as soon they fought themselves with crimson creeds,

and always, somewhere, could be seen the flash,

and heard the distant din of armies clash,

while cenotaphs with glor...

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fallen days poem chris laverty

L'Eremita

Away with loneness - he whose winter bites,

who haunts the wasted wilderness and shores,

born in thunder on the misty moors;

who, bred by wolves, with howling fills the nights.

But bring his smooth browed sister Solitude,

decked with autumnal charms and plenitude;

with contemplation's brimming horn of flowers,

and baskets graced with fruit to fill the hours;

often you'll ke...

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l'eremita poem chris laverty

Abyss Of Doubt

I knew one once, who wanted to believe

in something, and to bless it with the breath

with which he played his pipe, and made it weave

songs of youth and friendship, love and death.

 

And then he sang of wonders near and far,

of sights sublime, on mountains, hills, and sky,

sunsets, lightning, or a falling star -

and sighed, though he knew not the reason why.

 

He soug...

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abyss of doubt poem chris laverty

The Moonlight Hours

We'll no more pass the moonlight hours

by the riverside,

or share a silence as we stroll

beneath the colonnade.

 

Or shelter take from sudden showers,

or watch the settling tide,

or lie still when we moments stole

in some forgotten shade.

 

Those tender days, of light and shade -

the fading summer stole,

and so we'll no more pass the moonlight hours

by the ri...

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the moonlight hours poem chris laverty

The Shamisen

One night I met a traveller,

here from an oriental land;

he little spoke, this wanderer,

and held a Shamisen in his hand.

His fingers danced across its strings,

the music told of far off things:

 

of an exotic summer haze,

and rhythm of a rural pace;

timeless, gentle, carefree days,

and bustle of a marketplace,

where people talk and laugh and sigh,

hurry - or wa...

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the shamisen poem chris laverty

Autumn Leaves

 

Leaves – whispering ghosts of Summer's sultry ease,

you languid lie in withered loveliness,

while dreaming in the morning mist; a breeze -

 

like an Aeolian harp – does you caress,

and does a melancholy music make,

round silent solemn trees you once did dress,

 

in woods alive, mysterious. You wake,

and dance once more to nature's subtle song,

and borne by winds ...

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autumn leaves poem chris laverty

Her Final Dream

The wondrous moon, enchantress of the seas -

enthroned - its routine watch began that night;

Queen Mab, in chariot, on her eyelids light

glided; her dreams unlocked with silver keys.

 

Mab flew apace upon the midnight breeze,

and carried her, on to the ether's height,

over billowing waves, and alpine regions white,

on to the astral sphere - to rest at ease.

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her final dream poem chris laverty

Last Night

Last night I saw you - still young, turning your head

so gracefully, and laughing - robed in light;

as I on dream's soft fabric gently tread,

while stealing forgetful sleep before daylight.

What was this hazy world? the uncharted land

of final sleep, of neither space nor time?

where we'll watch clouds, and every grain of sand,

until the waking bell of dawn does chime.

The t...

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Last night poem chris laverty

Lost Seas

The lights of truth that faithful hung on high -

that lit the restless nights with sacred glow,

sleepless beacons, to sailors far below

adrift in storm - in clouds now shrouded lie;

lost seas they sail beneath a starless sky.

The Muses of sylvan song, long ago

fled their valley; wishful winds there blow,

once fertile springs of Helicon run dry.

But if, when lost in whisperi...

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lost seas poem chris laverty

Freyja

Freyja

 

In fertile Asgard, one autumnal day,

the skies hung low, the stags not far did stray.

The goddess Freyja wept red tears of gold,

and seated by the Well of Urd, her sorrow told:

 

'You valleys, echo far and wide my song,

that might it reach the ears of whom I long -

- my Oor - for you my aching heart still yearns;

though absent long, the flame inside still bur...

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chris laverty poem Freyja

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