All Poems

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two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea

© Rg Gregory

for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock
whose hands were drier than deserts
the sea's voice drove fear up through the valley
the tributaries meandering inside me longing for outlet
shrivelled even as their own courses became straight

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he and the hilltown

© Rg Gregory

when they look into his mind they find a hill town
somewhat surprised they go off to their learned books
outside (architecturally) he’d seems a little wind-blown
not special – a common sort of shackman by his looks

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The Faithful Bird

© William Cowper

The greenhouse is my summer seat;

My shrubs displaced from that retreat

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adventure

© Rg Gregory

just as the dusk comes hooting
down through the shivering black leaves
of the swinging trees we (the brave ones
swaggering like marshalls through a lynch-mob)
crash-bang our way to the door
of the so-called haunted house

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I Wander O'er The Sandy Heath

© Walter Savage Landor

I wander o'er the sandy heath

Where the white rush waves high,

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confessions of a fool

© Rg Gregory

(i)
i believed in flower-power (the triumph of the meek)
the thought that what a wind could bend was not to be
derided for its weakness but known to draw its calm
from a corporate sense of self (its many-ed history)
that tyranny (in the long blow) lacked the will to break

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bad for ears

© Rg Gregory

the song wasn't up to the task
of getting through the double-glazing
into the ears pressed on the outside pane
the rest of their bodies had faded away but

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October

© Madison Julius Cawein

I oft have met her slowly wandering

Beside a leafy stream, her locks blown wild,

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To an Intra-mural Rat

© Marianne Clarke Moore

  You make me think of many men
  Once met, to be forgot again
  Or merely resurrected
  In a parenthesis of wit
  That found them hastening through it
  Too brisk to be inspected.

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snowdrop blaze

© Rg Gregory

from late december onwards the day comes back
but not till february do we see those glimpses
that let us take deep darkness off the rack
and shake it free of lethargy that cramps us

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bird of fire - a caution

© Rg Gregory

the dream of the white bird flying
offers a freedom as tasty as nectar
how our lips purse to the goddess’s pap
at the want of such swoops through the air

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The Palace Gate

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

The soldier closed the clanging palace gate
Upon the crowd who murmured still to wait.
"Take back your gifts, you may not pass," he said.
"Hear the bell toll—the little king is dead."

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christmas in a box

© Rg Gregory

the policeman on the streets
found christmas in a box
tipped it down a manhole
it wasn't wearing socks

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There Is a River We All Must Cross

© Henry Clay Work

There is a river we all must cross,
Thousands will pass it tomorrow;
Some will go down to its waters with joy,
Others with anguish and sorrow.

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damsel flies

© Rg Gregory

certain creatures it seems are never seen
straight on - they occupy the corner of the eye
once sensed (a second look) they're gone
the damsel even more so than the dragon-fly

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Scum O' The Earth

© Robert Haven Schauffler

Newcomers all from the eastern seas,
Help us incarnate dreams like these.
Forget, and forgive, that we did you wrong.
Help us to father a nation, strong
In the comradeship of an equal birth,
In the wealth of the richest bloods of earth.

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elusive wisdom

© Rg Gregory

thoth (who became hermes who became mercury)
who was both moon and wisdom to the egyptians
manifested himself mainly as an ibis - a watery bird
a restless creature that could not stop searching
through marshy ground with its sickle-shaped beak

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A Poetical Epistle To Sir William Bennet, Bart. of Grubbat

© James Thomson

My trembling muse your honour does address,

That it's a bold attempt most humbly I confess;

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An Olde Lyric

© Horace Smith

I.

Oh, saw ye my own true love, I praye,

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the eyes that haunt me

© Rg Gregory

there are eyes that refuse to exist
in the fresh air - they are invented
by the lies of paint or make their mark
in a memory that had a truth
to feed on but only by distortion