Andrew David Dalby
Biography of Andrew David Dalby
I am a happily married 46 year old father of four: the son of a father who is a retired police officer and a mother who worked as a shop manager. I grew up in a very politically active household, where the ideals of socialism were passionately discussed; this has effected my view of the world considerably, and does have an impact upon my work.
I began writing poetry in my early twenties, however, it is only recently with the development of the internet, and the opportunities given by the Open University have I been able to work solidly.
I have one collection of poetry completed that I will post here in e-book form.
Andrew David Dalby's Works:
I have not found a publisher, but I am looking for one.
Andrew David Dalby Poems
The Deer I The heavy scent of pine, oak, birch and hyssop, Spins like secret sacred garlands within the breeze;
Carpe Viam Carpe Diem
Come on! seize that hard fought road! That steady stained and chiselled path, Scratched out from our chalk filled thoughts Which touches on our naked dreams.
The Eye Of Zeus
He stares: Swirling, Unfurling, Unleashing,
This season is full of secret hints: of mustard spiced tints, Which wrestle between the steps of rusted slow-dancing. It is a secret, sacred space, where the night fingers of crows, Stretch out in slowly expanding, ever circling swirling curls;
The Vamps Song
The Vamp's song. Darling, let's detonate and render obsolete this day; To bring about the triumphant mistress of the night.
Her Eyes Reflect Such Subtle Beauty
I Her eyes reflect such subtle beauty, As in a vast and cloudless star filled sky; While her luscious hair, weak curled, is rolling
Sitting On My Fathers Shoulders
Sitting on my father's shoulders; Smiling oh so secretly, Watching leaves curl up the roadside, feeling the soothing southern breeze.
I sense her as she gently slips between the sheets; While I slide along those sacred lines of near sleep, To then rest within twilight's gossamer tainted dream. And here I smile, for in her arms, I am so self-defined,
Her Delicate Kiss
As I slowly lift my head to face the sky, I feel the warmth of the summer rain, Slowly kiss open my swollen eyes; And in the midst of their fall,
She has these lovely butterfly eyes, that lustre in their sweet fragility. They look at me, so bold and unafraid; despite her twenty three years of age,
The Moon Is On The Rise
O secret sacred silver world you divinely shine here whole and in this now pure growing light In the hints of such subtle night
i I met the fair-voiced Calliope whilst waiting For a bus: - " You must go to Clapham! "
All Women Are Her
The cruelty of men placed her within a barbed wire cage But oh how strong she stood, so bold and so very brave For she guards her spirit from the black hooked talon's, And a dark murder that longs to scythe the night apart.
i I stand by the cold stone cross, to then breathe in in the view; While my mind slowly wander's,
I love the near silent sound of rain;
Its delicate intricacy overwhelms.
Yet it never tickles, as it trickles,
Forever failing to touch my -near parted- lips,
That rest, warm, plump and heavy;
Close to the cold crystal of the window pane.
I love the radiant light of rain;
I love its fracturing geometry.