Edward Rhodes

To stand on Hollingbury hill
Where I can see the rolling sea
And there in silence to be still
To stand on Hollingbury hill
...

On Sunday night, I didn’t hear
A single word you said, I fear
I must confess that I was wrong
I spoke to you through that last song
...

The gentle smile which graced his placid face
Portrayed him as one blessed with true content
A reasonable man with few concerns
Such was the image that he chose to wear
...

Till now, I didn’t even know her name
Or in what line of work she worked, for she
Was not well known, till you made it your aim
To write about the crime and make us see
...

I notice that you’re still here
I can see your shadow near the bedroom light
Though I have tried so long to ignore you
As you drone on and on
...

I wonder why I am so prone to casual obsessions
To beauties that enthral my eyes and stain their bold impressions
Upon the fabric of my mind, and in nocturnal sessions
Are breathed into the darkness with the tears of my confessions
...

Listen, my fellow passenger
You unknown person on the bus
Why are we making such a fuss
You ask? Well, listen and I’ll tell
...

What madness took me that I at this stage
Of life, at this progression of the years
Should so speak to a woman half my age?
Was it the gnawing doubt of time, which fears
...

Please listen to me, let me in
I don't know where I should begin
Please don't subject me to your frown
Or leave me in my dressing gown
...

(Written with the help of innumerable anonymous people behind computers)

You keep sending me e-mails
I read them every day
...

Forgive me please for the embrace
Which I attempted in this place
I wear the slap upon my face
From your fair hand
...

So, in the very dead of night
Tired and bored and broken-hearted
I knelt by the bedside alone, and wrote
Of how I tried to keep afloat
...

I have, you see, permitted all my dreams
From deep within their confines to break free
And to persuade my heart, how true it seems
That you, my friend, could give your heart to me
...

As I walked home the other day, I knew
That he was there with me, not far behind
I could not see him, his reflection find
And yet it was no dream, nothing untrue
...

You see, I do not sleep so well at night
And, in frustration, walk about the bed
And mutter to myself, bewail my plight
And meditate on all the things I said
...

I do not write poems about other men’s girlfriends
Although, upon reflection, I can see that I have
I have done so much that I now regret
While seeking to demonstrate my own virtues
...

Turn away from the dreary shame of youth
From forgetting in fantasies dreamt to songs
From the hard indifference of a dull heart
Turn from the sordid stroke of self-pity
...

Sometimes I walk into the shadow
Return to what I used to know
With hopes deferred and dreams delayed
But I will sit here in the shade
...

As time so swiftly passes, and the pace
Grows ever faster with advancing years
Could it be that the memory of your face
Will be seen keener as the darkness clears?
...

So, if we meet again, what should I say?
If I should speak to you, subdue my fear
Should I apologize and walk away?
Or linger with excuses, words unclear
...