Poetry Blog by Wolfgar (2019)

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The Librarian

https://wolfgarwords.com/

 

He sniffed at Miles Davis in his Pompous English way

but doffed his treasured cap to the tunes of Sid Bechet,

who himself was not a stranger to the pulling of a trigger,

though to one as mean as he was he'd have been a lowly “Nigger”

 

From High windows he could survey other lesser forms of life,

those toads and grubby proles mired in their strif...

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Manuscript

https://wolfgarwords.com/

 

She traced her poem on my skin

so when I breathe I breathe her in,

each touch a treasured silken word

too gentle to be overheard.

 

Upon my heart she wrote her book

on which no others eyes may look,

so now my life's love story told

the pages close no more to fold.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZF1Ek4anZI

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The empty chair

The empty chair is unimpressed

its vacant care bereft, un-blessed,

with threadbare arms and scuffed footrest

in lonely sitting room, undressed.

 

It squats in rays of slatted light

unknowing of the day or night,

no to and fro of padding feet

it's just a chair, so incomplete.

 

The chair is nothing now he's gone

just something he once sat upon,

where soon there'l...

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A Lark ascending (thoughts on Vaughan Williams)

 

And the lark ascends under heavy skies

in ashen blood she freely flies

 

She twists and turns to flee the field

the Sun alone will see her yield

 

Like spirits called beyond the death

the Lark borne home upon their breath

 

Vaughan Williams began writing “The Lark Ascending” prior to his departure to France in WW1, it was only completed upon his return at which time...

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A doorway in a northern town

https://wolfgarwords.com/

 

It took four men with ropes well oiled

to pull him screaming from his fate,

his boots and mouth and trousers soiled

a mind pulled from the edge, too late.

 

The faeries silver winged did dance

to see him tumble, weave and coil,

and now he views the world askance

with all his future hopes in spoil.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mde...

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Shoebox

 

Everything but shoes,

no-one walked with you,

a photograph, a jar of shells,

nothing borrowed, something blue.


A yellow stained certificate

on which no fathers name is penned,

a bastard from the very start

as you arrived so you did end.


The residue of chaos

stored neatly out of view,

I open it just now and then

when I can't remember you.

Read and leave comments (9)

Shoebox

Everything but shoes

no-one walked with you,

a photograph, a jar of shells,

nothing borrowed, something blue.


A yellow stained certificate

on which no fathers name is penned,

a bastard from the very start

as you arrived so you did end.


The residue of chaos

stored neatly out of view,

I open it just now and then

when I cant remember you.

Read and leave comments (0)

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