With heaps of darkened ashes stretched behind,
[Like dusty shrouds with traces (twisted time)
Of shameful things as well as the sublime
Of all the kindly deeds (and not so kind)]
The fading moments take their deathly toll;
While scythe-like shadows hover round the bell
The last remaining shudder sounds the knell.
(See the coffin decked in bright burnished gold).
Appearing like the dawning of a day,
She slowly made her light shine in my soul.
Exploding like the sun’s horizon play,
While diamond facet glistening glows unfold.
Now mesmerised by all the shades I see
Or feel inside; and torn apart by grey
And empty prisms swathed in filigree,
My golden splash of glare becomes dismay.
When moonly tides turn waters into foam,
I feel my full desires begin to drown.
My passion waxed and waned (no more to roam);
All light delights and gleams you now confound.
The maiden of illusion fades once more
While I am all washed up on distant shores
© 2010, Alan Morrison
Here is a song giving my personal take on organised religion – which I believe to be one of the greatest troublemakers in the world. Religion tends ultimately to bring death and destruction rather than life and creation. This world needs spirituality rather than religion…
This is a little song (in style naive) which I wrote many years ago in praise of my ideal woman (who probably doesn’t exist)
When I looked into your eyes
And it took me by surprise
I saw you — I knew you.
Never thought that it could be
Doesn’t come that easily
I loved you — it’s all true
It all happened to me.
So-called “Remembrance Day” looms large again. Instead of buying poppies and making wreaths, there should be public readings of Wilfred Owen’s powerful and haunting war poetry, which was written in the battle trenches in 1917/18. Try this sonnet-drenched sample, where Owen shows what a lie it is to say that dying for your country in battle is “sweet and right”: