Christopher Tye Poems

Kits

Kits of all sorts of things from planes to trains,
Imagineering the completed model while looking at a pile of sprue's,
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By the babbling brook

By the babbling brook I rest myself,
Watching damsel-flies hovering above the water,
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An Old Lady From Crewe

There was an old lady from Crewe,
Whose son's worked as train crew,
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Wasted Days

There are days when I have no fight left in me,
When I haven't got any energy left,
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Born out of the heat of volcanoes,
Nature's own glass it is so beautiful and rare,
So hard it can take an edge sharper than flint,
Yet so few of us have heard of it,
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Scars from decades of struggles,
Countless old wounds remain,
Atonement perhaps for my sins,
Reminders of old battles won and lost,
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Glaw Haf

Haf glaw,
Splashing yn y nentydd,
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Fires

Fireplaces with roaring log fires,
Inclement days huddled around the fire,
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Sorrow

Sadness and sorrow stalking my life,
Oneiric memories afflicting sleep,
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Rain

Rain decending from the heavens,
A gift from God and the clouds for all life on earth,
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