Alan S Jeeves Poems

The coldest, forceful wind may blow;
The sun may, sometimes, golden glow;
The rain may, often, showery show;
The sky may dust the land with snow.
...

The bravest of the brave
Will rise to meet the foe
And fear not who they well may be
As marching on they go.
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The Ukraine rain fell long and hard
From clouds above on high,
But what were shed
Were tears of red
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There he stood with his painted face;
All focused on the bright colours that he wore.
No one saw his eyes (they were out of place) ,
Why should they? That's not what they had paid to see.
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Far away over meadows, fields and hills
Or through oak woodland which is ever sweet;
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
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A gentle hand upon my skin
To balm my sleeping soul within
A fragile brushing 'gainst my face
Adorns my soul with air and grace.
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No longer the leaves show their full summer green,
As this cool autumn day
Takes their own youth away
As it once did with me a long time ago...
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I recall a day, a sky-blue day,
Still in my head, yet far away.
When first you led my mind astray
And left me vanquished, come what may,
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Where the ocean meets the sky
Far away, some distant place;
There is where so often I,
That is where I often try,
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Whereas the evening filters through
To bring the darkness seeping down.
The daylight's leave now overdue
High above a slumbering town.
...