Aaron Marchant

Aaron Marchant Poems

Summer friends now fall away with autumn leaves
Yet I, the last man standing,
will stay faithful to our covenant of kinder days.
I still see the warm smiles of summer eyes

The light is fading on this life
only a flicker now remains
Instinct tries to stoke the fire
but reason wants to damp the flames

You fell in love with somebody
who looked something like me
A fiction of your own creation
An ersatz, pseudo simulacrum

May day in England, the sun smiling wide
new leaf unfurling and catkins beside
wildflowers dancing like children at play
All this can be seen on an English May day

I remember beauty and her captivating smile
I met her in my early teens, she loved me for a while
I knew that she was fickle but hoped she'd remain a friend
But deep down, always knew that she would leave me in the end

Suddenly there's calm.
A sincere smile at journey's end
No trepidation now.
No more need of hope or use for tears.

March 8th 1860. Northampton General Asylum
Dear Sir
I am in a Madhouse & quite forget your Name or who you are. You must excuse me for I have nothing to communicate or tell of & why I am shut up I don't know
I have nothing to say so I conclude

If you can stay in bed when all about you
are leaving theirs 'cause they have work to do.
If you expect your dad to pay bills for you,
but still insist on an allowance too

Young eagle gliding high today
Emperor of all you survey
Your minions fear that steely glare
and wait in turn to take their share

When first, did the magic subside?
Our world of gentle alchemy.
Was it an illusion of youth,
that expectant synchronicity?

I knew you were hunting. From the first, I knew
Yet the mortal blow had been delivered
long before your clumsy game of hide and seek
Your trophy was no proud stag, but an ailing beast

There's a poet flipping burgers at McDonald's
and a sculptor stacking paint at B & Q
An artist halfway through a fresco, working on the till at Tesco,
a philosopher that serves your morning brew

Can we craft a world of earth and water?
Build a life on piles of shifting sand?
Make a home that's fit for son and daughter?
Retain the fortitude the tasks demand?

One winter's night when snow fell deep
I stretched a hand that I might keep
a snowflake that may last the year
yet in my palm it formed a tear

Call it luck or call it fortune
Call it fate or call it chance
Call it fluke or call it fancy
Call it whim or circumstance

A celestial alignment must have happened high above,
the time a girl I scarcely knew, became the girl I love

I might have loved her sooner, had she not been in disguise,

There's moss now on the path we walked
Lichen on the bench we talked
A gathering of russet leaves where one spring day
I held your hand and breathed a sigh and said goodbye

I am not an artist, but I would have liked to be
I can't claim a professorship or boast a Ph.D
I will not win an Oscar or receive the Nobel prize
My hopes of a bestselling book, may not be realised

Will there be one last miracle this lifetime?
Will we meet for the first time and just ‘know'?

Will I wake one morning nervous, excited, urgent, anticipating?

Our motives may not be religious,
yet still we make our pilgrimages
And following a sat-nav star,
we pack like sardines in the car

The Best Poem Of Aaron Marchant


Summer friends now fall away with autumn leaves
Yet I, the last man standing,
will stay faithful to our covenant of kinder days.
I still see the warm smiles of summer eyes
and taste the breathless, impassioned kiss of blood moon nights.
If I be the solitary blade of wheat
neglected by the harvest reaper,
then our song of summer I will sing.
Though stinging winds would rip and tear,
love will not be silenced by separation
or diminished by death's decree.

Aaron Marchant Comments

Adrian Flett 28 September 2018

Kipling will be proud, 'my son'

6 0 Reply
Adrian Flett 26 September 2018

What deep and lyrical lines of Soliloquy, I read the poem over and over

13 1 Reply
Ruta Mohapatra 26 September 2018

Some of Aaron's poems are really beautiful. Enjoyed reading them. They are like a breath of fresh air. This poet will go a long way.

14 1 Reply

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