john (called jack) wren Poems

It's a place where silence
has the loudest voice
from those who lie there
though not by choice
...

Sweetest of Isles I look at thee
nestled in yonder turbulent sea
shining like diamonds every day
guarding the entrance of the bay
...

Ribbon and tinsel, holly and berry
it's the festive season, time to make merry
there's cards and presents, snow on the ground
carols in church make an angelic sound.
...

Wee sleek thrower of the soil
under the ground you're made to toil
on heaps of earth we see your stamp
on meadow and wood where're you camp
...

Creeping merrily twix affable leaf
in search of her morning aperitif
this vision with the brightest of eye
smiles as she teases the Sun in the sky.
...

I look to the hills that He created
for help from Him who is venerated
to guide me when my foot doth stray
and be my help from day to day.
...

Bobbing in and out of the old stone wall
looking for insects large or small
nervous, as she flits to and fro
into the hedgerows forever on the go
...

You can hear the Devil groan
now the Lamb's back on the throne
His blood shed our sins are sealed
blood as red as poppies in the field
...

Around the bay sit meadows sweet
where cow and sheep softly roam
and meandering walls of stone compete
with ramblings of bramble and thorn.
...

As time goes by and we grow old
every wrinkle lies in its fold
the head of hair once our pride
keeps receding like the tide
...